


Between the Lines

by corrupted76



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And plot twists along the way, Angst, Bitter Old Men, But I feel that spoilers would ruin the mood of the story, Canon-Typical Violence, Edgelords, Eventual Smut, Grimdark, Hurt/Comfort, I will only be tagging for triggers from this point on, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, So I will not be placing them in the main tags, Suspense, Tension, There will be a lot of headcanons explored, Unless something potentially disturbing comes up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7178300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrupted76/pseuds/corrupted76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Morrison and Gabriel Reyes cross paths again. But now, they are much older, both presumed dead and leading very different lives. Is it fate that brought them together, or is it too late to change things?</p><p>Art of characters from this story:</p><p>Reaper: (spoiler warning: do not view until after reading chapter 3)<br/>http://tinyurl.com/btl-reaper-1</p><p>Soldier: 76: (spoiler warning: do not view until after reading chapter 9)<br/>http://tinyurl.com/btl-soldier76-1<br/>http://tinyurl.com/btl-soldier76-2</p><p>(Please do not wander around my personal story art tags though, such as 'my reaper', 'my soldier: 76', or 'my boys' unless you want to know huge reveals that have not been written yet. You do so at your own risk.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally based upon what little canon we had available at the start of Overwatch. The Old Soldiers comic has already clashed a bit with my telling of the story and as things progress in the Blizzard camp, my fic will probably become even more canon divergent. But that is not going to stop me from writing it, and hopefully it will not stop you from enjoying it, either. As it stands now, the injuries that Reaper and Soldier: 76 have sustained in my world do not match up according to the comic, but so be it.
> 
> Between the Lines is meant to be a long story with an overarching plot anyway, so I may take liberties as time goes on. But the people portrayed should be fully in character at all times (though my headcanons may not match your own).
> 
> Most of the other characters from the Overwatch universe will most likely make an appearance, especially one in specific who will have a vital task to perform, but the main focus will always be Soldier:76 and Reaper. As such, I won't tag other characters to prevent spoilers and to avoid my work showing up in searches where a certain character ultimately has a very minor role or a single appearance in one chapter.
> 
> To start, I am tagging all main themes that will be presented in this work as a whole, but if something particularly NSFW or disturbing happens at any point, I will add those tags once that chapter is uploaded.
> 
> Also, I am just getting back into writing after several years of not being able to. I will probably edit my work a lot as time wears on and I fall back into my rhythm. I will correct any grammatical mistakes that slipped through the beta stage, or clarify and expand on things that are awkwardly worded or unclear, as I see fit. I'm a perfectionist and compulsive editor so you may notice this habit if you reread this fic a lot. However, the direction of my story will always remain unchanged. I will never sneak important details or changes into the plot of my work, after a chapter goes live.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot on the trail of his first big lead in a long time, Soldier: 76 follows a very suspicious man he discovered poking around the derelict Gibraltar Overwatch base.

Soldier: 76 rounded the corner and dashed forward, his back now pressed against the large rock he was using as cover. Moving to the edge, he peeked out and glanced in all directions to make sure that no one else was lurking in the shadows; or even worse, trailing _him_. He had no idea who this strange cloaked intruder he was following was, or who he worked for — or if he was a part of a larger team that had been sent here, for God only knew what.

 

But everything seemed to be all clear for the moment. And the man he was following also seemed to be oblivious to the fact that Soldier: 76 was tailing him.

 

Pulse rifle held close to his chest, Soldier: 76 continued sprinting from crag to crag, using the rocky terrain to provide cover as he followed the mysterious intruder. He struggled to keep his breathing steady beneath his respirator, knowing that his shortness of breath would give him away in due time if he got too close or wasn't careful enough. Though he was a hardened veteran and incredibly skilled, Soldier: 76 wasn't young anymore and becoming winded easily was his greatest flaw — especially in situations like these.

 

His mind was running wild, formulating ideas about who this person was and what their motives might be. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions and chase red herrings, but Gibraltar wasn't exactly a hot destination. There wasn’t much here other than a few small villages and the derelict Overwatch outpost that he himself had come to investigate.

 

Fortunately, Soldier: 76 had been able to figure out that the recent activity was Winston’s doing. And in the process of investigating the sudden activation of the base’s communication network, he’d been able to chase off the intruder — all without blowing his cover. Two birds, one stone. And now he had a good, solid lead for once.

 

_Maybe the recent blip on the Overwatch radar is what drew you out here, too._

 

Even though Soldier: 76 was here to find answers, he hadn't expected to find a potential suspect crossing his path so conspicuously. It was the chance of a lifetime and he wasn't about to let it go to waste. He had to discover who this mysterious man was and figure out why he was snooping around. Was he a former member of Overwatch, or even more likely — someone who’d been responsible for the organization's downfall?

 

_I have no idea who you are but I’m damn sure gonna find out..._

 

It was a warm but windy evening, and the sound of the breeze helped disguise any noises that Soldier: 76 inadvertently made. Getting noticed now would ruin everything. He needed the suspect to lead him to his destination, otherwise the trail would grow cold and Soldier: 76 would be left with nothing but questions, _again_.

 

He was so tired of this life; living as an anonymous vigilante, frustrated with all the constant investigating and running around all over the globe seeking answers that ultimately eluded him. He was old and exhausted, but he simply wouldn't allow himself to give up until he had those answers. And now, the potential to piece it all together was only a few yards away, black cloak billowing in the wind as he deftly scaled a small cliff. Whoever he was, he had some obvious skill. Soldier: 76 would give him that credit. And hopefully, he’d also hit pay dirt this time.

 

It all seemed to drag on, and it was too slow for Soldier: 76’s liking. Up and over hills, through places with too much cover or not enough. He wasn't certain how much distance he'd traversed or how much time had passed in chasing the suspect, but the terrain had gradually changed from rock and rubble, to forest.

 

And it was a blessing that he had his tactical visor. As much as the man stood out like a sore thumb before, it was now past dusk — and he blended into his surroundings more and more the darker it grew. Soldier: 76 might have lost him completely, if he’d had to rely on his own eyes alone.

 

Allowing himself the luxury of a quiet mumbled groan, he hid behind a nearby tree before leaning to the side and watching for a moment, to ascertain which direction his target would be heading in.

 

The man simply stood there for a moment. Was he lost? Hesitating for some reason? Soldier: 76 observed the man carefully. What the hell was with that get up anyway? While it covered the man from head to toe, it wasn't exactly inconspicuous. Looked like a fucking costume, like something a villain out of a comic book would wear. He almost let himself make the mistake of not taking the intruder seriously, until he begrudgingly realized he probably didn’t look much better.

 

Finally, the man clad in black turned left and Soldier: 76 stealthily followed suit. He could tell that his lead was taking him closer and closer to some sort of community or establishment past the forest. It wasn't loud, at least not yet… but the sounds of people going about their daily business was faintly audible to his enhanced ears. He could have gathered more information by changing his visor’s scan mode, but he didn’t dare risk making that much noise.

 

Before long, he found himself ducking between small buildings and residences until at last, the suspicious creep he was tracking vanished into a small detached home. Soldier: 76 gave the man a few minutes to settle in before he began circling around the small building — keeping vigil to make certain that his suspect hadn't caught on — and wasn’t subsequently trying to sneak out. Now that absolute silence wasn't as critical, he switched his tactical visor's view mode to night vision. It was such a hushed beep that it would have been nearly impossible for anyone to have heard it, but Soldier: 76 had been on edge ever since he'd laid eyes on the target, and he wasn't certain why the man made him feel so terribly unsettled. 

 

After satisfying his suspicions, Soldier: 76 ducked behind some small bushes outside the house and waited. He was growing steadily more impatient, but knew it was best to give his suspect time to relax instead of just barging in. Even though the job was dangerous and a certain level of careful vigilance was always needed, he was well aware of how anxious he was feeling; and therefore, acting as a result. He didn't like it. His nerves frayed, he was growing increasingly more aware of how old and tired he was. But he held on, hoping this nervousness was simply something within himself — intuition, instinct; something intrinsic that was aware that this was the person he'd been seeking all this time. 

 

Hours passed. Gradually the small town fell silent until all was still; most, if not all the inhabitants likely tucked away in their beds. This small community in the middle of nowhere was almost totally dark by now, save for an occasional street lamp, and yet the light still shone through the window of the one place that mattered. Soldier: 76 was becoming bored and restless; his mood growing more sour by the minute, until at last the beam that shone from an inside lamp was finally snuffed out.

 

Soldier: 76 waited for a few more minutes, assuming that his target was finally going to retire for the night. After giving him some time to bed down and hopefully fall asleep, he crept to the window. Resting his pulse rifle against the side of the building for a moment, he slowly pushed the window up as quietly as he could manage. It raised with only the smallest of creaks, and moments later Soldier: 76 was inside, and armed again.

 

_Foolish to leave it unlocked. Hm, maybe I’m giving this asshole too much credit._

 

Cautiously creeping through the house, Soldier: 76 investigated quickly, scanning the environment with his tactical visor. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The structure only had a few small rooms and while spartan but clean, most of it looked completely untouched — and un-lived in.

 

At last, Soldier: 76 crossed the threshold of the back room: the final place where the man he was trailing could have been. He was casually sitting up on the bed, legs hanging over the side, arms crossed... and was staring directly at him.

 

_Something is wrong with this._

 

Fighting past his misgivings, Soldier: 76 gritted his teeth and immediately raised his pulse rifle, aiming at the man. He was much more unsettling from the front, his face completely obscured by some sort of grotesque mask. What in the world was this son of a bitch up to, that required such complete and utter secrecy?

 

"I wondered how long it would take you to finally let yourself in." The man taunted from underneath his mask, voice barely above a whisper.

 

"Shut up!" Soldier: 76 snapped gruffly. Adrenaline spiking, the feeling of dread grew stronger than before as his apprehension mounted, though outwardly he seemed to retain his composure. "Hands up, where I can see them. Now!"

 

_Wait. How the hell did he know I was following him?_

 

The only response Soldier: 76 got was laughter. Cold and eerie, the deep voice reverberated in the darkness. Something was not quite right and not quite human about that voice, and the tiny hairs on the back of Soldier: 76's neck stood on on end as the sound echoed. Unsettling... and somehow... familiar...

 

Pushing completely impossible and intrusive thoughts out of his mind, Soldier: 76 took a step forward, weapon still pointed at the suspect as he closed the distance between them.

 

"Who the hell _are_ you and why did you come to Gibraltar?!"

 

 "Oh, _Morrison..._ " The man clad in black teased in a condescending tone. "You damn well know who I am." The deep, rolling voice was almost a purr.

 

Soldier: 76 took a half step back, rifle still pointed at his target as he struggled to stay focused. Heart pounding furiously, he felt as though he might faint despite the endorphins surging through his veins. His normal vision was now spotty, and it was extremely fortunate that he was wearing his visor — both for the optical information it provided, and the false security it gave him in concealing his bewildered expression.

 

_But you’re… supposed to be dead!_

 


	2. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier: 76 and Reaper are reunited for the first time since everything fell apart, but its apparent how different they are now, and how much distance lies between them.

"I know exactly what you're thinking." The man said before slowly standing. "And you're... half right."

 

"Stay away from me! Don't you dare take a single goddamn step!" Soldier: 76 ordered sharply, the barrel of his pulse rifle still pointed at the man's chest. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his receding hairline as adrenaline continued to course through him. He struggled to keep his hands steady; joints locked, muscles tensed. Using every bit of resolve within himself, he tried desperately to keep his composure, though he knew it was a battle he'd already lost.

 

Of all the things Soldier: 76 could've discovered… this was the thing he'd expected the least, not even within the realm of possibility in his mind, and he wasn't remotely prepared to handle this reality.

 

"Calm down, Morrison. You don't want to shoot me." He said, standing motionless and as still as a grave. "And even if you did it anyway, it wouldn't do you much good." The man uttered quietly beneath the mask that concealed his face. His tone was calm and strangely gentle.

 

That voice. So familiar… there was no mistaking it, despite the new odd and otherworldly quality that accompanied it.

 

Soldier: 76 stood there, dumbfounded. He didn't know what to do or what to even think. With every second, more nonsensical information was being thrown at him and he couldn't begin to process it. Flashbacks inundated him as he tried to stave off his emotions and quickly piece the facts together as best he could. No. It didn't add up.  

 

_Just another fucking nightmare..._

 

Soldier: 76 cautiously lowered his rifle but was apparently still dubious as he clutched it tightly against his chest.

 

"What could we possibly have to talk about, Reyes?" Soldier: 76 finally said, irritably.

 

"We'll get to that." The masked man said, pausing for a moment before leaning forward; which was the only way he could get closer to Soldier: 76 without actually moving towards him. "You need to calm down though, or this isn't going to go so well. And this should be obvious without my needing to say it, but I'll say it anyway. I'm not... going to hurt you."

 

"I am calm!" Soldier: 76 yelled harshly, refusing to acknowledge anything else that had just been said.

 

"...I don't blame you, for not believing me. But it's important if we're going to get anywhere."

 

There was a quality about the way his voice softened with the slightest intonation as he spoke.  It was something that no one else would have picked up on. But despite all the years that had passed, that familiar change in tone betrayed the pain the cloaked man attempted to hide. And Soldier: 76 picked up on it immediately.

 

"Fine." He replied stiffly. He was still incredibly uncomfortable and kept his defensive stance but he was trying to be at least somewhat agreeable, despite the feelings of dread and panic that still permeated his senses.

 

It had only been for a moment. But in that singular moment, Soldier: 76 caught a glimpse of the Gabriel he once adored, beneath the grim facade. And the pangs that shot through his heart at that realization had temporarily won the battle of his highly conflicting emotions.

 

_This is... a really bad idea._

 

"Okay. Can I move now?"

 

"...Yeah."

 

"Great."

 

Soldier: 76 observed the dark figure take a few steps behind the fuzzy and oversaturated green frame of his visor's night vision mode. Watching how slowly and deliberately he was moving, Soldier: 76 finally lowered his pulse rifle. It was not a topic he had any desire to bring up, but he realized and appreciated what the other man was doing for his benefit.

 

Suddenly, Soldier: 76's vision was flooded as the switch was flicked by a clawed hand and the overhead lights came on.

 

"I don't really need lights and judging by that damn thing on your face you probably don't either, but it's the principle of it. Nice and civilized. Have a seat.”

 

Wincing as the brightness that flooded his field of view, Soldier: 76 raised his left hand and pressed a tiny button on the side of his tactical visor a few times, until he found the view mode best for the new environmental conditions. A moment later he was sitting down on a small armless wooden chair across from the bed. After a small bit of deliberation he carefully placed his rifle on the floor in front of his chair, left foot firmly planted on the stock.

 

The other man took up his former place, sitting in the middle of the twin bed across the room from Soldier: 76. Once seated, he leaned forward again, arms casually draped over his lap.

 

As Soldier: 76 looked at him with newly improved visibility, he felt his jaw lock. Teeth clenching as he stared at the strange being before him, he realized for the first time that the mask that concealed his face was modeled after the Blackwatch emblem. Continuing to scrutinize the man, Soldier: 76 looked him over from head to toe. Some things you can't hide so easily. Such a distinct body shape, of someone he had known so well, so long ago. It was almost as if Soldier: 76 was recalling someone else's memories altogether. But it was definitely Gabriel Reyes sitting in front of him. Beyond all probability and all possibility.

 

But something was definitely still wrong with the situation and with his former companion; and Soldier: 76 was acutely aware of it. And that highly disturbing sensation of dread, as if death was literally looking over his shoulder, hadn't subsided.

 

Was this a very real warning or only a ghost of the constant nightmares that had tormented him all this time? Could he trust his senses, or was he simply reacting to being faced with the source of his trauma?

 

 _“Jack_."

 

"Jack's dead." Soldier: 76 growled bitterly.

 

"So is Gabriel. But I don't expect you to call me Reaper all night, _Seventy-Six_. No matter how much distance is between us now, we’re way past aliases and code names." He said darkly, trilling his Rs.

 

He laughed before he even realized it had slipped, remembering how Gabriel’s mostly controlled accent would suddenly reappear whenever he became flustered. However brief, there was still some spark of who they were once, beneath all the overlapping layers, and it was obvious. But Soldier: 76 couldn’t let his guard down too much, no matter how strongly he longed to do just that. It could be his ultimate undoing. A fatal mistake. And yet… it was so tempting.

 

_Wait._

 

Every drop of fleeting humor evaporated as Soldier: 76 paled, posture rigid and defensive. He didn’t reach for his rifle, but his hand instinctively dropped to his outer thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from the sidearm holstered there.

 

“How do you know that? Reyes, how the fuck do you _know_ that?” Soldier: 76 demanded, voice unsteady and gravelly as he flexed his fingers, poised to draw his pistol. “Still hunting me, gonna finish… finish what you started?” He choked out, hand shaking no matter how hard he fought to control it.

 

“What? Fuck! _No…!_ ” Reaper jumped up from the bed.

 

Soldier: 76 had his fist around the grip of his gun, heart pounding furiously as he prepared himself for the end.

 

But the end didn’t come, and in the single instant Soldier: 76 hesitated, Reaper had moved across the small bedroom. Now he was in front of the single window in the room, back to Soldier: 76 as he stared outside.

 

Swallowing thickly, mouth dry, Soldier: 76 struggled to get his breathing back under control as what the fuck just happened, began to sink in. His hesitation to defend himself against Reaper could have cost him his life. But the counterpoint. Reaper hadn’t had any intention of attacking him after all and in his instability, Soldier: 76 just came dangerously close to killing him for the sole offense of standing up. Grunting lowly, he moved his hand away from his pistol, resting his arm weakly at his side.

 

_I can’t… do this._

 

“I know who you are. Because. I knew you were still alive. Out there, somewhere. I knew that funeral was staged and that coffin was as fucking empty inside as I am, and I didn’t fucking _stop looking_ until I found you.” Reaper spat angrily, still facing away.

 

“I see.” Soldier: 76 said, though he didn’t, entirely. Focusing was incredibly difficult.

 

“... _Dios mío_.” Reaper grumbled under his breath, and crossed his arms. “What happened to you?”

 

“You damned w-” Soldier: 76 bit his tongue.

 

_Fuck._

 

“Mm. Right.”

 

Reaper shifted as he continued to avoid looking at Soldier: 76. His stance had softened though, and even with his back facing him, Soldier: 76 knew that outburst had been a mistake. Even if it really was true and even though he hadn’t finished it.

 

“Look. It’s a long fucking story... and none of its good.”

 

“Heh.”

 

“I’m… sorry. For what I said, and how I’m acting. Okay? I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah. I know.” Reaper replied softly.

 

“Come back, sit down.”

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

 

“No, I… Rey- Reaper, I’m sorry.”

 

_What kind of name is Reaper, anyway?_

 

“I’m not saying this because I’m offended. I’m saying it because I don’t want to keep… I don’t.” Reaper sighed loudly. “Why is this so fucking hard.” He turned his head a little, looking slightly over his shoulder in Soldier: 76’s general direction. “It's probably not good for you if I do. So I’ll just keep my distance over here, so you can feel… better. Okay?”

 

_Safer. You mean safer and we both know that._

 

Soldier: 76 didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t really like any of his current options and none of the reasons for feeling the way he did, made any damn sense at all.

 

_This is fucking humiliating, get your shit together, Jack._

 

“No, it's not okay. Come back and, sit down.”

 

“If you say so.” Reaper retorted, and skulked back to the bed, his footfalls slow and heavy.

 

“I do.” Soldier: 76 said, before tightly folding his arms over himself, fingers tucked away between his chest and his biceps; so that it would be impossible to fidget, shake — or most importantly, reach for a weapon impulsively.

 

“Look.” Reaper began, extending his right hand towards Solder: 76 as he spoke. “I got a lot I need to say to you. Eventually.”

 

“Yeah.” Soldier: 76's gaze was locked on the ridiculous claws pointed at him. 

 

“I’m sure you probably feel the same way.” Reaper continued.

 

A sigh. “Maybe.”

 

“We’ll get to all that later. For now, I want you to know. To understand, that I have no intentions of harming you in any way. Even if you decide all you want to walk away from here with, is payback? Whatever. I won’t stop you. And I won’t even retaliate.” Reaper explained, leaning back some. “Do your worst, if that’s what you want.”

 

Soldier: 76’s brow furrowed as he listened. “Okay.”

 

“But first you have questions, and I’m going to answer them.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“Like I said before, I eventually figured out who you are. I did some digging around. It honestly wasn't all that hard, once I discovered the name Soldier: 76. The places he suddenly appeared at, the nature of his activities... it all added up a little too well. I had a hunch it was you. So I kept digging. And once I finally saw a picture, well... you might be covered up too much for the public to recognise you, but I _know_ you.”

 

Soldier: 76 braced at that last part, a sudden pang seizing his chest. He shifted in his chair but didn't speak.

 

"As for why I'm in Gibraltar? Sudden activity from the communications array. I was hoping I'd find you... and when I didn't, I decided to try to extract the information I needed from the base's mainframe. So I could eventually find you. That didn't work out as... expected, but I'm okay with the final result."

 

Soldier: 76 grunted. "So I was right. About all of it." He turned his head, looking away from Reaper's masked face to stare at the floor some distance away. "But it doesn't explain why."

 

"That part's easy. Or, maybe it's not. Forget I said that part." Reaper laughed under his breath. "Let's just say I wanted to see you again and leave it at that."

 

"I don't know how to respond to that." Soldier: 76 confessed. And it was true, indeed as it was the only full truth he'd said all night. His pulse began to race in his chest yet again. Being calm only came in infrequent, erratic bursts but this time he at least managed to retain some dignity. His tactical visor had many benefits indeed.

 

"Fair enough." Reaper said, tilting his head slightly. "Anything else you wanna know?"

 

"Yeah, actually."

 

_This is quite possibly the worst idea you ever had…_

 

Soldier: 76 paused, second-guessing his decision before following through with it.

 

"I want to know if it's really you under there. I want to see your face."

 


	3. Meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuous strain of the evening causes things to come to an unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected result.

As Reaper stared silently at him in deliberation, Soldier: 76 was able to feel those eyes on him, despite not being able to actually see behind his mask. And it was terribly eerie.

 

They both sat in stillness, neither speaking. It would have been simply awkward in a less tense situation, but as it was, it was nearly unbearable. Soldier: 76 tried to quiet his breathing further; but the sound of his respirator was so loud in the dead silence, and his heart was beating so frantically he bleakly wondered if Reaper could hear both.

 

When Reaper finally spoke, it was a welcome distraction to just to have something else to focus on.

 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

 

"I already know it isn't." Soldier: 76 said nervously. "But I still want to see you. No, I _need_ to see that it's you. Until tonight, I was certain you were dead. And to be honest, I'm still not convinced you aren't." He finished, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and crossing his right leg over the left. His left heel was still firmly braced against the pulse rifle lying on the floor.

 

Reaper laughed humorlessly. "Understandable..."

 

"Are you going to comply?"

 

"If you're going to talk to me all formally like that, _Commander Morrison_ , you might as well give me the order." Reaper said smugly.

 

Soldier: 76 stiffened as a reaction but didn't protest his real name being used this time.

 

"Fine. Show me your face. That’s an order." He snapped, sounding a lot more hostile than he’d intended.

 

Reaper sighed. "I'll warn you, I don't look like I use to."

 

"Will I still be able to tell that you're…"

 

_Gabriel._

 

Soldier: 76 shifted in his seat again as he delayed. "You?"

 

"Yes. But it's not pretty."

 

Soldier: 76 cleared his throat loudly and nodded. "Understood."

 

Reaper stood, once again moving quite slow in general and being careful not to make any sudden, quick motions. Claws extended, he reached up with both hands and flicked his hood back with his index fingers.

 

Soldier: 76 watched with bated breath, noticing the way the thick strap that held the mask on was wrapped around the side of his face, just above his ear on the side he could see. The top of the man's head was outlined with thick, steel kissed mahogany curls. Even though his hair was quite a bit longer now that his former military buzz cut wasn't necessary, and he couldn't see much yet; Soldier: 76 was already growing convinced. Enough to cause that earlier chest spasm to strike again, a quick burst of pain rippling through him like fire.

 

_This is too much. Stop him before it's too late._

 

"You sure this is what you want?"

 

Soldier: 76 knew that pulling out of the situation right now was the best and most logical thing he could've done. But he simply didn't have the resolve to say no.

 

"Yeah. It might seem like I'm overdoing it to you, and maybe I am. But I'm probably going to always have some sort of doubt if I don't see your face with my own eyes."

 

"Got it."

 

Reaper raised his arms again, hands reaching behind his head. It seemed as though it took an extraordinarily long time for him to undo whatever sort of knot or clasp mechanism it was that held his mask on. Soldier: 76 couldn't tell whether it was his own overstimulated state causing time to drag on, or if Reaper was genuinely procrastinating.

 

"There's no going back after this." Reaper remarked in a solemn tone.

 

Soldier: 76 tilted his head, and finally freed his hands from the protective, self-imposed death grip of having his arms so tightly crossed.

 

"I know. Not gonna change my mind though." He said, interlocking his fingers and resting his gloved hands in his lap.

 

_Is it... that bad?_

 

Now bearing most of his weight on one leg, Reaper grumbled, pivoted at the hip and pulled his mask off before placing it on the bed. He turned to face Soldier: 76, his posture rigid, expression a stony display of forced neutrality.

 

Soldier: 76 gasped behind his respirator, before he could catch himself. He was accosted with shock and visibly wavered in his seat as he stared at the man in front of him, taking in every tiny detail.

 

His face told the tales of a hard life filled with stress and injury. His once golden brown complexion no longer had it's healthy sheen; further marred by scars and strange pigmentation. Blotchy, irregular patches of pale gray-white, lifeless skin crept across his facial structure, mostly consuming the right side of his face and trailing over the bridge of his nose as if threatening to do the same on the left side, at any moment. Jagged, rough and messy scarring further painted the canvas of Reaper's face, like angry coral slashes the artist had slapped down, in all directions and occasionally overlapping. His eyes were not unscathed, either.

 

While his right eye seemed to retain at least some of its former rich brown coloration, the left iris was faded, and almost a dark pink in color; the pupil a grayish brown. Yet beneath all the damage, he seemed to have aged quite well. The light wrinkling beneath his eyes and the corners of his mouth being the only real testaments to the passing of time. That, plus the steely gray now streaking through his hair line and fully consuming his well-groomed facial hair.

 

_Gabriel._

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Reaper remarked sarcastically, once again being the one to break a long silence.

 

“I… just.” Soldier: 76 stammered weakly. His breathing and heart rate had begun to rocket so forcefully and in unison; his own ears filled with static and white noise from the rush. He unlocked his fingers so he could clench his fists tightly instead and had he not been wearing gloves he would have penetrated the skin of his palms with the level of pressure he was applying. He couldn't think straight, or formulate words as his mind was flooded with conflicting images. Stills of traumatic flashbacks of the worst day of his life and the terrible recovery time spent hooked up to machines were superimposed against happy little polaroids of his treasured memories of when they were younger. The final result was all mixed up and ruined, a confusing mash-up of too many things. In his increasing overstimulation, Soldier: 76 was beginning to lose his grip on reality and it became obvious as even his visor couldn’t cover up everything.

 

"Can't get over how terrible I look?" Reaper scoffed.

 

“N… no. It’s, not... that.” Soldier: 76 wheezed as he suddenly realized that whatever was wrong with that strange voice was most definitely not any sort of vocal manipulation device in the mask. He just sounded that way now.

 

Reaper shook his head and turned around, scooping his mask up with his left hand, the fingers of the other busied in straightening out the straps.

 

“Don’t!” Soldier: 76 barked.

 

Snapping his neck quickly, Reaper glanced at Solder: 76 in response to his sudden outburst.

 

“I’m sorry, I just. I.” Soldier: 76 attempted feebly. “Leave it off.”

 

“Okay, but I was going to put it back on becau-”

 

_Because you’re figuring out I’m fucking insane._

 

“I said NO!”

 

Reaper laughed incredulously, his strangely modulated voice echoing in the small room.

 

Soldier: 76 groaned loudly, shoulders sagging as he slumped in his chair.  Absolutely nothing was going right, at all. Not that there was anything good that could have ever come from any of this. But he was tired of making a fool of himself and knew he was close to his breaking point. Dangerously close.

 

 _I have to get out of here. I have to_ **_go_** _._

 

Reaper observed with grim curiosity as Soldier: 76 leaned forward unsteadily, reaching for his pulse rifle with a shaky hand.

 

"Oh, you wanna see my face when you kill me, is that it?" He asked, his tone darkly sarcastic.

 

"N, no. It's time for me to leave."

 

"You haven’t even gotten any of the answers you’ve been looking for all this time, and I’m right here. But you haven’t asked me anything. And a moment ago you didn't want me to put my mask back on. And now you're leaving? Just like that?" Reaper said in an even voice, before turning for a moment to put his mask down again.

 

Soldier: 76 braced, then turned his head away sharply, staring at the wall.

 

"Looks like it." He said bitterly, knowing how unstable and indecisive he must have seemed in Reaper's eyes. But it was all he knew to do, to stop this train wreck from getting even worse — and to salvage whatever would remain of his mental stability. Which probably wasn't much and decreasing steadily with each passing fucking moment.

 

"What's the point? What good will walking away do?" Reaper asked cuttingly.

 

"Heh. I don't fucking know. I just can't do this anymore."

 

"Will running away really solve anything?" Reaper continued prodding, motioning toward Soldier: 76 with a clawed hand. "Have you been doing anything but running away for the past six years? Because I know I certainly haven't. And it hasn't done me any good."

 

Soldier: 76's breath caught in his throat, his respirator quickly reacting to supply more oxygen to offset the change in his breathing pattern. He didn’t speak, knowing that he couldn’t possibly respond to that without putting his foot in his mouth yet again. Not coming out right and just making things worse.

 

“You're going to just fucking run off and leave me behind without even returning the favor. Fucking typical." Reaper said bitterly.

 

"What? What favor?"

 

"Your face. I still haven’t seen it."

 

"…Oh. Hah. Even if I wasn't leaving, that's not gonna happen. I have my reasons." Soldier: 76 grunted, still staring at the wall.

 

Reaper growled with frustration. "Selfish as always. I should have known.”

 

_I’m the selfish one? Me?!_

 

Blood nearly boiling, Soldier: 76 turned and jerked forward, collecting his pulse rifle and jumping up from his seat. "Fuck this!"

 

"Wait. Ja-, Seventy Six. Wait."

 

"For what?"

 

"I don't know. I'm... just sorry if seeing my face was too much for you."

 

There was some pervasive and yet intangible quality in Reaper's voice that made the impossible weight in Soldier: 76's chest somehow feel even heavier.

 

"It's not that." He said, trying to convince Reaper that it wasn't his doing. And of course that was a lie, and Soldier: 76 knew that he hadn't sounded as convincing as he'd wanted to.

 

"Yeah, right."

 

"Okay. Fine. It was too much. It is too much. But not how you're thinking." He struggled to explain.

 

"Then tell me."

 

"I'm just not who I used to be. I'm not like I used to be. And things will get real bad if I don't go."

 

"Could things be any worse than they already are?" Reaper scoffed.

 

"Yeah. They could. I'm not… stable."

 

Reaper laugh dryly. "Oh, is that what the problem is?"

 

"It's really not funny."

 

"I know it's not. I'm laughing because I already told you to do your worst if that's what you want. And you're trying to protect me, is that it?"

 

"Fuck. That's not what I'm saying."

 

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

 

"I don't know. I don’t know, I just know **_I can’t handle this_**."

 

Reaper held his arms loosely at his sides, wrists turned so that his hands and fingers were fully visible. He took two wide strides towards Soldier: 76, his long legs effectively cutting the distance between them in half.

 

Soldier: 76 froze in place; muscles clenching, joints tightening. He was visibly uncomfortable, posture stiff and unnatural.

 

After giving him a moment to adapt or the chance to react if needed, Reaper took another step and stopped again.

 

Somehow able to brace even harder, Soldier: 76 lowered his stance slightly, hands tightly gripping his rifle. And yet he made no attempt to flee, retaliate or stop him from coming closer. He just stared intently at the damaged, weary face that was so familiar yet completely foreign. There was something almost hypnotic about those contrasting eyes.

 

_What the hell happened to you? Was this all from the blast? That day..._

 

Finally Reaper took one last exaggerated step forward, stopping only a few inches away from him. Though they were almost the same height, Soldier: 76's defensive posture made him slightly shorter at the moment. Reaper glanced down at him, attempting to get a peek below Soldier: 76's visor. Futility. It was as if it was fused to his face. Reaper sighed under his breath.

 

Soldier: 76 could do more than just feel eyes on him now that Reaper was staring him down unmasked. And it was indeed still creepy. Perhaps more so, because when unmasked it was abundantly clear that something was dreadfully off about him. Yet nostalgia clouded Soldier: 76's judgment. He could still see fragments of what was once Gabriel, in there — somewhere. But it was far from pure. His yearning meshed with anger, and the pangs of sentimentality were stained with fear and trauma.

 

He mentally cursed himself for allowing Reaper to get so close. Not stopping him betrayed every front he'd put up the whole evening. And now? He was face-to-face with the love of his life, who was also somehow his greatest adversary and biggest fear in this twisted, cursed version of his existence. The images in his mind started again, like a brief film of his life was playing; except it was surreal and disappointing and nothing was like it should have been.

 

"Hi." Reaper said in a tone that didn't suit his appearance or altered voice at all. It was mocking, almost playful. The odd juxtaposition of it just made it sound even more creepy than it would've been under normal circumstances. But it seemed to go unheard.

 

Soldier: 76 didn't respond or react. He seemed to be lost in his own world. His hands were shaking pretty badly and fresh beads of sweat were staining his hairline.

 

Cautiously and with care, Reaper reached out and gently ran his fingers through snowy tresses, focusing on the side of Soldier: 76's head. He touched as low as he could before the visor stopped him.

 

"Hey."

 

No response.

 

"Seventy-Six."

 

A low, quiet grunt. But it didn't seem to be genuine recognition.

 

Reaper groaned loudly. " _Morrison_. John Morrison."

 

Soldier: 76 drew a breath, loud and sharp as he snapped back to the present. Brow tightening as his returning vision focused on Reaper's face, he attempted to jerk away instinctively.

 

"Okay, okay. You're all right." Reaper said, backing off very slightly and reluctantly moving his hand away.

 

"Don't you fucking  _touch me_." Soldier: 76 snarled.

 

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He said thinly, trying to reassure him.

 

_Make sure I'm okay?_

 

That was the breaking point.

 

Soldier: 76 growled and leaned in towards Reaper, aggressively."I'm anything but okay! Nothing's okay! And nothing's been fucking okay for six goddamn years and it's never going to get any better. Just go ahead and get it over with, Reyes. Fucking finish what you started and put me out of my fucking misery. I'm sick of living this way!" Soldier: 76 roared, finally snapping. He threw his pulse rifle across the room. He also drew his pistol and a moment later, it too was sailing, and landed against the butt of his rifle with a clack.

 

Reaper's jaw was set, teeth pressed tightly together. Eyes narrowed as he stared at Soldier: 76 but he did nothing except allow it to unfold.

 

"I mean it! Get it over with. I can't stop because I don't know how to. Because something in me won't let me quit, but that doesn't mean I want to keep on living this way. I'm not even living, I'm just existing and I'm tired and too old for anything to fucking matter anymore. Fucking end it, do me the fucking favor! Finish what you started and do it right this time!" He screamed in fury and rage with an unsteady voice that grew more strained the longer he spoke.

 

Reaper still did little, suddenly constricted pupils and the piercing glare that was fixed on Soldier: 76 were the only indications that he’d heard him at all.

 

A moment later, Soldier: 76 lunged forward, clenched fists pounding forcefully against Reaper’s chest again and again until his hands ached, yet he still did not stop. His vision was splotchy and spotted, hormones pumping through his veins with primal force. The most basic of survival instincts perpetually misfiring and the long, sustained exposure to the source of his instability had finally sent Soldier: 76 over the edge.

 

As if he'd expected this outcome, Reaper was braced and prepared for the blows. He stood there, unflinching and unwavering and simply allowed Soldier: 76 to assault him. And exactly as he'd promised, he did nothing to stop it.

 

Eventually, Soldier: 76 tired himself out; body succumbing to the forces of extreme stress, emotional overload and the eventual hard crash following an excessive rush of adrenaline. He collapsed to the floor, trying to choke back a pathetic whimper. His breath was labored, and he struggled for air even within supporting confines of his respirator. As he sat there, crumpled up on the floor, a small bit of lucidity returned. He realized his visor was fogged up and filled with humidity. He'd been so far gone he didn't even know when he’d started crying.

 

After a couple of minutes had passed, Reaper knelt beside him. Without warning, Soldier: 76 suddenly found himself imprisoned inside firm, strong arms. And now, he was too exhausted and too despondent to fight back or even protest. Moments later his head was pressed to Reaper’s chest, while clawed fingers were softly stroking his hair.  
  
  



	4. Recoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper tries to console Soldier: 76 despite the divide that still lingers between them.

Time passed, as Reaper simply tended to him for a while. It was calm and quiet; a much-needed reprieve from the turmoil and strain of the evening. Though Soldier: 76 didn't seem to be responding to the attention, Reaper didn't let up, and before long he was smothering him with gentle touches. Pointed fingertips were wandering through Soldier: 76's hair, then lightly over his shoulders and down his back before tracing a slow, meandering path upward again. Occasionally, Reaper would try to press his cheek against Soldier: 76's face, but each time his visor got in the way.

 

Reaper kept his temperament even despite the great inconvenience the visor was causing him. He put great care into his actions; being certain not to move unexpectedly or use too much force, in all that he did.

 

Weakly draped against Reaper, Soldier: 76 stared blankly into the screen in front of his eyes, vision unfocused and distant. It had been ages since anyone had touched him and there was no one else's affection he could have ever craved more. He desperately wanted to give into the moment, but he couldn't allow himself to show that much interest and weakness. He hated Reaper for touching him at all, for making him feel so fragile, but he didn't have the strength or willpower to put a stop to it.

 

Eventually he slumped forward, pressing slightly into Reaper instead of just limply hanging there. It was only a tiny gesture, but it was fully understood.

 

Reaper groaned quietly and cradled him closer still; pulling him forward with his right arm. Then he lightly pressed his lips to Soldier: 76's skin and placed a gentle kiss to his temple. And then, Reaper lingered there; maneuvering Soldier: 76's concealed face to the crook of his neck, clawed hand holding the back his head.

 

Exhaling sharply, Soldier: 76 slowly rolled his eyes shut, his trembling arms feebly wrapping around Reaper. He had been so reluctant, and honestly still was; fighting with himself every tiny step of the way.

 

"Voy a arreglar este lío." Reaper uttered in a hushed but very grave tone, giving Soldier: 76's waist a firm squeeze as he spoke.

 

Heart rate rising again, Soldier: 76 lifted his head and leaned back slightly, scrutinizing Reaper. He had no idea what it was exactly, that had just been said. But he recognized the stern quality in his voice.

 

Just hearing the sound of Reaper speaking had caused an involuntary increase in his pulse; now he was looking directly at Reaper's exposed face, and at a much closer distance than before. It was a potent mixture. Despite being completely drained just a short while earlier, Soldier: 76 now felt damn near intoxicated.

 

"What?"

 

"It’s nothing."

 

"Care to tell me what the hell you just said, then?"

 

"All in due time."

 

"I know the only reason you're speaking that shit is because you know I can’t understand you."

 

"I taught you a little, remember? Funny, you use to have an interest in learning Spanish."

 

"Well not anymore."

 

"Fair enough..."

 

Soldier: 76 grunted, and turned his head in order to avoid looking into the pointed glare aimed at him. He tried to move away, and as soon as it was understood that was what he wanted, Reaper allowed it, arms lowered to his side as he let go.

 

After he scooted a small distance away, Soldier: 76 pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs. A moment later his chin was resting atop his knees, back towards Reaper.

 

He wanted nothing more than to completely disappear right now. Forever. And despite everything that had happened, it lingered even still. Those feelings, trapped deep down inside him. In his very core. And he was well aware that it was very much still there. He was confused and hurt, humiliated and disappointed in himself.

 

 _God, why? Why can’t I just fucking_ **_let go_** _?_

 

"So." Reaper began, not allowing Soldier: 76 to ignore him for long, or to settle back into silence.

 

"Yeah." He said, thinly.

 

"Are you... getting any treatment for that?"

 

"Treatment for what."

 

"Don't bullshit me. You know what. PTSD. I did my share of critical incident debriefing in my day. But even if I didn't know what to look for, it's fucking obvious."

 

Soldier: 76 didn't respond.

 

 _I am not having this fucking conversation with_ **_you_** _._

 

"Pretty bad case of it too, from what I can see. You would have been put in counseling at least and prob-"

 

Soldier: 76 cut him off. "Yeah well, I'm not in the military anymore. What's your point?" He snapped. “Make it quick.”

 

"The point is, I'm not letting you leave." Reaper said firmly.

 

"So you're going to hold me hostage, is that it? Fucking classy."

 

"I'm not holding you hostage. I just don't think you're in any shape to leave. So you might as well settle in for the night."

 

"My father's dead, Reyes. And I'm not looking to replace him."

 

"You're still not going anywhere, Morrison."

 

"Morrison's _dead_."

 

"So I can't call you by your goddamn name, but you can use mine?"

 

"Sounds about right."

 

Reaper sighed. "Look Seventy-six, I'll leave you alone if that's what you want. This place is pretty small but you can have this room to yourself. I don't mind. Rest for a while, get some sleep. If you want to leave in the morning, fine. But I don't think you should go right now."

 

"Why do you keep fucking pretending you give a shit about me?!" Soldier: 76 spat bitterly, straining to hold back another wave of tears.

 

"I'm not going to justify that with an answer." Reaper said flatly, as he slowly scratched at the floor with his left hand, sharpened fingertips anxiously digging into the wood.

 

"Whatever." Soldier: 76 scoffed.

 

Groaning, Reaper stood and walked over to the bed. Leaning down, he retrieved the dual hand cannons he'd previously hidden under there, placing them on the bedside table one at a time, before standing.

 

"What are you doing?" Soldier: 76 asked gruffly, turning his head to watch what Reaper was up to. He eyed the huge guns with suspicion.

 

"Getting ready to leave the room, that's what." Reaper said flatly, before grabbing his mask and adding it to the pile on the table. "Giving you some space."

 

Soldier: 76 shook his head and snorted in derision.

 

"Okay, I've had enough of your fucking attitude."

 

"Well, it's a good thing you're leaving then."

 

Grumbling some sort of whispered reply in angry Spanish, Reaper suddenly turned and walked over to him. Dropping the slow and careful demeanor he'd presented all night, he quickly leaned down and scooped Soldier: 76 into his arms before the other man had a chance to react. The fact that he'd been all curled up made it far too easy for Reaper to capture him.

 

"Fucking put me down!" Soldier: 76 growled threateningly.

 

"I plan to." Reaper laughed dryly, spinning on his heels and easily carrying Soldier: 76 over to the bed. A moment later he found himself sitting on the mattress, Reaper now a slight distance away.

 

Soldier: 76 felt as though he was on fire, blushing furiously beneath his visor. He was flustered, ashamed and completely mortified by the events of the evening; and yet still inundated with incredibly invasive thoughts, of what if's and might've beens. He cursed under his breath, angry with himself and his inability to keep his own emotions under control.

 

He'd spent the last several long weary years of his miserable life compartmentalizing and storing everything away, because it was too much to handle — and sorting through it would have been futile anyway. Yet here he was, watching all of his skillfully crafted walls and barriers crumble to ashes at his feet. Through the anger and the terror that gripped him even still, something was there beneath the surface and struggling to rise to the top.

 

It was a toxic soup of unstable emotions, conflicting desires and bad ideas. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it back. Feeling Reaper's arms around him again hadn't helped the situation either. His resolve was quickly running out, and he hated himself for it.

 

 _You fucking idiot. He tried to_ **_kill_ ** _you. And that was before. Now there’s a whole lot about him that just ain’t right._

 

Reaper leaned forward, both palms resting against the edge of the bed as he lingered above Soldier: 76. He kept a respectable distance but was still somewhat close.

 

"I'm going to take my things and leave the room. I'll close the door behind me if that's what you want me to do. So you can have privacy. But I'll still be here, if you… want to talk. Or need anything." He explained softly.

 

Sitting cross legged on the bed, Soldier: 76 gazed up at Reaper. Though his face was marked by injury and stress, he was still remarkably handsome. Maybe even more so than ever before. Or maybe he wasn't, and it was simply a literal case of rose-colored glasses. Soldier: 76 grumbled and looked down, deliberately breaking eye contact. There was something deep within Reaper's dark eyes; something powerful, compelling and very genuine. Except Soldier: 76 was to afraid to trust him. Or himself.

 

"Answer me, Seventy-six. Just let me know you heard me. That's all you have to do. The last step to getting rid of me for the rest of the night."

 

"..."

 

Reaper leaned in, raising his right hand and very gently pressing on the underside of Soldier: 76's chin with his index finger, in an attempt to convince him to respond.

 

"Voy a cuidar de ti." Reaper said with conviction, voice barely above a whisper.

 

Soldier: 76 felt that familiar ache in his chest return yet again. Lifting his head, he looked up at Reaper and exhaled sharply. He felt dizzy and disoriented, just being in his presence. Seeing his face, hearing that voice again. And damn, was it beautiful when he spoke Spanish...

 

"I don't know what the hell you just said, but it sounds serious."

 

"It is serious." Reaper said, moving his hand away as soon as Soldier: 76 became responsive again. "But that's enough for now. I'm leaving. I'll be out there if you need me. Okay?"

 

Soldier: 76 didn't say a damn word.

 

Reaper chuckled, amused at the sudden realization. "If you don't want me to go, just tell me. The only reason I was leaving was to give you space. Not because I want to."

 

Silence.

 

"Okay. We'll try this another way. You tell me when you want me to leave, and until you... do, I'm staying right here." Reaper purred, leaning in a little closer.

 

Studying Reaper for a moment, Soldier: 76 let out a hushed sigh and nodded.

 

_I have nothing left to lose anyway._


	5. Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he realizes that Soldier: 76 isn't going to actively help matters in his current state, Reaper decides to give him some space in hopes of defusing the situation.

Reaper shifted his cloak and sat down on the edge of the bed beside Soldier: 76; close but not too close. "Get comfortable. Relax. It's all right."

 

"I am relaxed."

 

Smirking, Reaper shook his head. "You never were very good at lying."

 

Soldier: 76 glared silently.

 

"I mean it."

 

"Fine." Soldier: 76 huffed. He stretched for a moment before returning to nearly the same position he had been in before. His shoulders were slumped slightly and he didn't look quite so stiff. But other than his posture softening, not much had changed.

 

"That's your idea of relaxing?" Reaper prodded, slowly moving toward him.

 

"This is as relaxed as I'm gonna get." Soldier: 76 said bitterly. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest as he stared at Reaper.

 

Reaper uttered a hushed laugh before shaking his head, incredulous. Turning slightly and pulling his legs up, he was now fully resting on the bed and facing Soldier: 76.

 

"Look, I'm just gonna put this out there since you're so goddamn difficult." Reaper said, leaning in. "And I don't care if you think I sound like a broken transmission. It needs to be said, so fucking listen up."

 

Soldier: 76 gritted his teeth, jaw locking as he stared at Reaper. He was pretty sure he had already figured out where this conversation was leading. And he damn sure didn't like it.

 

_Here we fucking go again._

 

"I'm not gonna hurt you. And I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But you're not real big on speaking today."

 

Soldier: 76 continue to grind his teeth, harsh stare locked on Reaper as he braced instinctively, returning to a more defensive posture. He would've preferred to have done absolutely nothing; to not acknowledge that he’d heard a thing. But Soldier: 76 knew Reaper wouldn't let it go without some sort of confirmation. Sighing, he reluctantly gave another nod in reply. At least it was easier than speaking.

 

"Good." Reaper said breathlessly, then smiled softly at Soldier: 76. Though it was subtle, the way his subdued expression tugged slightly at the corner of his mouth said everything his speech did not. Something more delicate and caring lurked beneath Reaper’s damaged, gruesome face. The sentiment had made it all the way to his oddly mismatched eyes, faint wrinkles tugging at the corners of his eyelids. Everything about his expression seemed genuine but it somehow made Soldier: 76 feel even more uncomfortable.

 

Soldier: 76 quickly lowered his head to avoid Reaper's stare as he felt his face flush. He stared at the flannel blanket that covered the bed, and seemed to be concentrating on the tacky check pattern with intensity. But internally, he was doing anything but concentrating on what was displayed on his visor's screen, his gaze distant as he considered the situation.

 

The whole thing was precarious. Though he had been trained in studying facial expressions and was very skilled at detecting deception, what if he was misinterpreting Reaper's motives somehow?  Soldier:76 began to feel more uneasy as self doubt sank in. There was no question that Reaper had the same training and could no doubt lie with expertise. Regardless, he’d been fooled before, and it had disastrous consequences.

 

_How can I trust you… ever again?_

 

While Soldier: 76 was preoccupied with his own thoughts, Reaper had somehow moved closer without him noticing. And once he had realized it, anxiety descended upon him again. He knew he needed time to think, to rationalize everything that was happening; but every time he allowed himself a moment, he somehow failed to be fully aware of his surroundings. He steadily grew more and more angry with himself, because he knew better and yet — it kept happening.

 

Sighing deeply, Soldier: 76 finally broke his sustained stare at the bed. He jerked his head up sharply and glanced towards Reaper, and then immediately regretted it as he felt the resounding ache in his chest. He could've just asked Reaper to put his mask back on, but he didn't have the heart to. Despite that, looking at the man was so damned difficult, and he was far too close now.

 

“Back off.” Soldier: 76 snapped gruffly, recoiling at Reaper’s sudden proximity.

 

"Okay. I'm sorry." Reaper said evenly, scooting back in order to put more distance between them. "I'm not trying to intimidate you."

 

"You're not intimidating me!" Soldier: 76 barked.

 

"Good." Reaper said nonchalantly, then shifted his position as he moved a little further away. He seemed to be rather casual, hands resting loosely in his lap, his clawed fingers interlaced.

 

Soldier: 76 studied him briefly. He couldn’t figure out if Reaper really was as even, relaxed and calm as he seemed or if it was all just a front. And as familiar as the man was, it was still as if he was trying to scrutinize a complete stranger. He still had his handsome features beneath all the changes, but the damage was still obvious. Yet it was peculiar, and the discoloration of his skin and eye didn’t exactly look like scarring. Everything about this Reaper, was confusing and different than the Gabriel he once knew.

 

_If you ever even really knew him._

 

"What… happened to you?" Soldier: 76 finally choked out, breaking the silence.

 

"I could tell you everything right now, but I'm not sure you're ready for that conversation." Reaper said flatly, eyes narrowing.

 

"Would you stop fucking treating me like an idiot? I'm getting a little tired of it. I'm fucking ready. Now." Soldier: 76 spat gruffly, though he was lying through his teeth.

 

"I'm really not sure that you are. It's a lot of information that you might not be able to handle right now. If you even... believe it."

 

"That bad, huh?" Soldier: 76 said in a low tone, his own resolve to carry this conversation through already decreasing. For the first time, he also just noticed that whatever was going on inside of Reaper's mouth wasn't exactly normal either. What the hell was with those teeth? Were they… _pointed_?

 

_Ugh._

 

"Yeah. It’s bad."

 

"Well, tell me something at least. Explain what the hell's going on with you. Why are you so, so… different?" Soldier: 76 questioned, choosing his words carefully.

 

"We both have our scars from... that day." Reaper began, cautiously.

 

Soldier: 76 growled lowly, his mood souring further as soon as Reaper dared to bring up _that day_. The worst day of his entire miserable life. He clenched his hands tightly as Reaper spoke.

 

"When they pulled me out, I was in bad shape. I barely made it through. And I wasn't the same on the other side of it." He finished, then cleared his throat, not looking at Soldier: 76 while explaining. “I was technically dead for several minutes. They probably shouldn’t have even tried to resuscitate me. They did it anyway but something… went wrong.”

 

 _They shouldn’t have. And I'm not going to feel fucking sorry for_ **_you_** _._

 

Soldier: 76 didn't respond immediately, turning his head towards the wall as he deliberated. Reaper had been completely right about not talking about this, about not being ready for it... and he suddenly really didn't want to have the conversation continue, beyond his initial misgivings.

 

“I'm not exactly, normal anymore, Seventy-six. But I'm here, somehow. There are a lot of details I'm deliberately leaving out, maybe one day I'll tell you everything but I don't think now is the time for that.” Reaper explained with a sigh.

 

_What's the point? What does it even fucking matter… It doesn't. Stop listening to this bullshit._

 

Exhaling loudly, Soldier: 76 continued staring at the wall though he fought to maintain awareness of his surroundings this time. That dreadful feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach again. Maybe he should've trusted that instinctive sensation of dread that had been with him from the moment he laid eyes on Reaper — before even knew who he was. But then again, he had been the one to press the issue to begin with and Reaper had warned him.

 

"Hey." Reaper said softly, after some time had passed. No answer.

 

"Seventy-six." Reaper tried again to coax a response out of him.

 

With a gruff sigh, he glared at Reaper through his visor as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Everything was such a goddamn mess.

 

"Yeah, what?" Soldier: 76 replied flatly.

 

"I'm going to give you some space. I'll be out there." Reaper said, motioning quickly towards the door with his head.

 

"I thought you weren't going to do a fucking thing until I gave you an order." Soldier: 76 retorted spitefully.

 

"I changed my mind, **_Commander Morrison_**." Reaper said, his deep voice filled with sarcasm.

 

Soldier: 76 groaned loudly at his name being used, again. Beyond that, part of him wanted Reaper to stay and part of him wanted Reaper to go. Both parts were fiercely strong, and he didn't quite understand either of them.

 

"Do whatever you want then." Soldier: 76 said irritably.

 

"It's not what I want, but I think it's best."

 

"Whatever."

 

"Bickering just like old times." Reaper said smugly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as he prepared to stand up.

 

Soldier: 76 chuckled dryly at that before he caught himself. He shook his head and sighed. If things hadn't been so ruined and broken, it might have been true.

 

Standing, Reaper turned and leaned down towards Soldier: 76, his voice softer and calm. "I think you probably don't want to get comfortable with me anywhere near you, but try. I know you are probably exhausted. You're safe here. Rest. Get some sleep. Everything else can wait."

 

Mulling things over, Soldier: 76 looked up at Reaper and seemed to be studying him for a while before he finally replied.

 

"Fine." He eventually choked out, before lowering his gaze again.

 

"I'll see you in the morning." Reaper said evenly, a brief smile appearing on his strong features before he turned to go. "Not a threat, just a habit." He muttered before stopping at the bedside table for a moment to collect his mask and guns.

 

"Yeah, understood." Soldier: 76 said, watching him carefully.

 

He continued to stare at Reaper until he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I was pretty sick all this past week but I'm feeling a lot better now, so updates should be made more quickly again.


	6. Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions continue to mount, until reaching the inevitable breaking point.

After pulling the door behind him, Reaper wandered out into the living room of the spartan dwelling and placed his guns and mask out of the way. Normally, he was quite careful. Under different circumstances he might have put his mask back on, or kept his weapons closer; but there was no reason to be so cautious in such a useless little dead end town in the middle of the night. Especially since the only interesting thing in the whole damn place was sulking in the other room.

 

Sighing deeply, Reaper flopped down in a shabby recliner and snatched the remote from a nearby end table. He turned the television on, even though he had absolutely no interest in watching anything and didn't plan on paying attention to it anyway.

 

Everything about the place was so backwards and in disrepair. The television looked like it was fifty years old, but at least it worked. Reaper turned the volume up to a low hum just to break the awkward and deafening silence of the house.

 

Propping his feet up on the coffee table with a loud thunk of his heavy boots, Reaper leaned back and shut his eyes, a hushed, strained groan escaping his lips.

 

"It could have gone worse, I suppose." He muttered lowly as he stared at the back of his eyelids. He never would've admitted it in Soldier: 76's presence, but it felt kind of nice in its own way, to leave him for a while. Though his chest was already heavy and something deep within him ached to return, the break was still appreciated. Keeping his composure in check for so long was extremely taxing. And it was so hard to look at him, even if he was mostly obscured.

 

 _Jack_.

 

Hidden away behind that damned apparatus he refused to take off, wrinkles lining his forehead, hair now white as snow. How old he had grown in such a relatively short amount of time. Despite it all, Reaper longed so badly to see that face. And he already knew that even if age had taken its toll on him, John Morrison was still gorgeous under there.

 

But beyond his own yearnings and wishful thinking, Reaper knew the man now known as Soldier: 76 was incredibly damaged. Of course, it made sense that such a surprise meeting would have him at a disadvantage and his reactions would have been extreme regardless. But Reaper had never expected Jack to be so terribly broken. He desperately hoped that somehow, Soldier: 76 was not as bad off as he seemed. But realistically, Reaper feared that the opposite was the truth. That he hadn't even seen the half of how different the man he once knew, had become.

 

Bitter and aggressive in speech, and yet completely passive in action. Like a cornered and terrified animal doing everything possible to scare off a predator.

 

Reaper didn't want to be thought of as a fucking predator.

 

_Even though that is exactly what I am._

 

Laughing darkly, Reaper slowly rolled his eyes open and stared at the ceiling. Everything was fucking ruined and in the present, all of the blame rested on his shoulders alone. Not that everything in the past that had gone wrong, was his fault. Jack had contributed, and also done a great deal to escalate the situation — whether he realized it or not. But none of that fucking mattered anymore. Not after finally seeing Soldier: 76 in person. The only thing that mattered was that the wreckage of their past was now lying at his feet, and he was the only one capable of salvaging anything at all from the dusty remains of what had once been something so beautiful.

 

Maybe one day, he'd sit Soldier: 76 down and tell him where everything went wrong. Maybe the stubborn asshole would genuinely listen to him for once. It wasn't like Reaper hadn't tried multiple times to explain everything in hopes of getting some help in handling an impossibly difficult and critical situation.

 

Grumbling, Reaper smirked and then shook his head. Back then, John Fucking Morrison could have fixed everything. And honestly, Reaper did still hold a grudge about it. But that wasn't important right now. He wasn't sure whether the passing of time had sated his smoldering anger, or if seeing the disaster that Jack had become was what finalized everything in his mind. And he wasn't sure if it even mattered.

 

But one thing was abundantly clear. Ultimately, he was to blame for this. And he would take that responsibility upon himself even if Soldier: 76 never stopped shutting him out or... never stopped hating him.

 

Another droll, sarcastic laugh was uttered as Reaper looked around the room, trying to formulate some sort of plan of action as to how to handle Soldier: 76. He certainly wasn't going to volunteer advice or cooperate in any way, and Reaper was very much aware of that.

 

Giving him a little space and some time was definitely the best thing Reaper could've done, but going back in there at any point would be much like entering a hornets' nest.

 

"Hm."

 

_Let him think he has the upper hand, or some control in the situation. At least for a little while._

 

Reaper sighed. He had never been known for being upstanding or particularly moralistic, but for once he honestly did want to do the right thing. Or what he perceived to be the right thing in his own mind. Manipulating Soldier: 76 could also have repercussions later, if he ever caught on. But it seemed to be the only course of action Reaper could logically take at the moment.

 

Quickly jumping up, Reaper reached into one of many hidden compartments in his cloak and rummaged around. After a moment he found what he had been searching for. Only about the size of a coin, the device was tiny, nearly weightless and very inconspicuous. He rolled it between his clawed fingers briefly as he contemplated the best way to go about what he was going to do. Nodding to himself, he placed the small chip into a more convenient front pocket of his clothing and settled back in.

 

And then he waited, impatient but determined as he stared blankly at the TV screen. While he waited, Reaper mused if this was what Soldier: 76 had felt like hiding in the backyard all night before finally creeping inside. It was funny, how they always seemed to go through a perpetual cycle of contrasting each other completely, and always somehow managing to do the exact same things. Like two opposing sides of the same coin. Maybe things were not as bad as they seemed, and not much had changed after all.

 

Once a couple of hours had passed, Reaper walked silently to the door. Even though his enhanced senses had not picked up on a single sound other than Soldier: 76's rhythmic breathing in quite some time, he paused and studied more carefully at closer range to make absolutely certain that Soldier: 76 was indeed asleep. Once he was satisfied, Reaper clenched his teeth and prepared himself for the excruciating pain that was about to come. With experience, it had become easy to control, but was never pleasant.

 

The horrid sensation rushed through his nerve fibers; as though his body had been consumed by spontaneous combustion. His bodily composition began to rapidly implode, cellular breakdown collapsing his physical form and leaving thick trailing tufts of blackened smoke in his wake.

 

Slipping easily and completely silently under the door, Reaper partially manifested on the other side; he saw Soldier: 76 tucked away in bed, and facing the wall. Perfect. Once he saw he was in the clear, Reaper glided across the room and reformed himself. He quickly slid his hand into the accessible chest pocket of his shirt and pulled out the device, chip held carefully in his grasp. He had completely suppressed his breathing and moved with a level of silence no mortal human could ever replicate.

 

Looking around, Reaper saw that Soldier: 76 had finally removed some of the excessive layers of clothing he'd been wearing all night. His padded gloves and armored boots were lying on the floor beside the bed, next to his thigh holster and... whatever those weird yellow canisters were, that had been strapped to his arm; while his jacket was hanging from the bedpost.

 

To Reaper's disappointment, it appeared the difficult son of a bitch was actually sleeping with the entire fucking get-up still latched onto his face. It seemed to Reaper that even if it was some sort of prosthetic, the way it was pieced together would allow for certain pieces to be easily removed. But he didn't see any evidence of Soldier: 76 taking off any part of it. The thing must've been uncomfortable to sleep in. And the facts drove the point home further still, that Soldier: 76 did not trust him. Not even a little bit.

 

Forcing back a grumble, Reaper glanced around while trying to decide which part of Soldier: 76's equipment would be the best place to plant the chip. His rifle and pistol were still lying on the floor. While one of those might have been the best choice to ensure the device would always be on Soldier: 76, Reaper knew it was a bad idea. Jack had always been meticulous about his weapons, inspecting and cleaning them very frequently. It would eventually be discovered, probably sooner rather than later.

 

Leaning down, Reaper considered Soldier: 76's large augmented boots. He quietly tapped the area where the sole met the heel. Exceptionally constructed. There would probably be no way to pry the sole apart without risking the possibility of cracking it. The result would be far too conspicuous if so. There had to be something better, somewhere discreet and reasonably safe to stash the damn thing. It was so small, that it shouldn't have been this much of a problem.

 

_Complicated and difficult as always..._

 

Carefully navigating around the bed, Reaper glanced at the colorful armored leather jacket hanging from the post. With "76" boldly emblazoned across the back, it was no doubt very important to him. Reaper momentarily boggled at the concept of Jack making this ridiculous outfit himself. After all, he would have had to compromise his total anonymity in order to have someone else make it for him. Didn’t seem likely.

 

_When and where did you learn how to fucking sew?_

 

Reaper smirked as he inspected the garment carefully. It was so well-made, so lovingly crafted. And yet it had so many layers of stitches where all the different pieces met, and so much embellishing that it was the ideal place for Reaper to hide the secret gadget.

 

_Perfect._

 

With surgical like precision, Reaper slowly and carefully began snipping a few strategically placed stitches with a clawed index finger. In just a short while, there was a slight hole at the top of the bright red "6" on the right side of the back of the jacket. He carefully maneuvered the chip into the hole and worked it down the full length of large embroidered numeral, then navigated it towards the curve of the "6".

 

It was really in there, and quite secure with hardly any chance of it ever falling out. Once it was in place, Reaper patted the jacket to test it out. It was so thin and compact he couldn't even feel it underneath the layers of leather. Even though he was still a little bit torn about doing this to Soldier: 76, he couldn't help but grin devilishly at his own handiwork.

 

Once everything was taken care of, he crept over to Soldier: 76 and loomed over him. Reaper was desperate for even a second's glance at some part of his face, but it was complete futility; even at this angle which should have been ideal for at least a small glimpse underneath the visor.

 

_Snap out of it. You need to get the hell out of here before he wakes up._

 

Reluctantly, Reaper braced himself for the inevitable jolt of pain as he dematerialized once more, stealthily returning to his place on the other side of the door.

 

Time passed, Reaper fighting with himself all the while on whether or not he should try to get some rest. His need for sleep was greatly decreased and he didn't need to indulge in such a thing very often at all anymore. But it would have made the tense, anxious and mind-numbingly dull hours pass easier. Ultimately he couldn't bring himself to, simply sitting in that rickety old recliner and staring mindlessly at the TV past dawn.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soldier: 76 woke with a start as consciousness returned to him, much like the uncomfortable sensation of falling. Jerking forward slightly, he rubbed his temples and stretched before lying down again.

 

It was amazing that he had even fallen asleep to begin with, and there was no telling how many hours it had taken for him to do so. He had been lying in that uncomfortable bed for what felt like an eternity, mind racing with so many difficult thoughts and the foreboding feeling of apprehension still pervading his senses. He had been determined not to let his guard down enough to sleep, but in the end fatigue must have won the battle somehow.

 

He no doubt needed the rest, but the rock hard mattress certainly hadn't done much good for his back. He stretched again before pulling the thin blanket around his shoulders, bed creaking loudly as he shifted about.

 

He turned and looked around the barren room, weight supported by one elbow. It hadn't been another terrible dream after all. Everything was still as he remembered it before settling in; and despite everything being damn near impossible, it had been real after all.

 

His visor's screen informed him that it was only a little past 6:30am local time and he was still quite tired. He debated the possibility of turning over and going back to sleep. It was so early. But then again, the prospect of gathering up his belongings and sneaking out the window without having to face Reaper was also a very tempting option.

 

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door.

 

_So much for that._

 

"Yeah? What?" Soldier: 76 replied gruffly, his usually disagreeable temperament not helped any by the early hours.

 

"I'm coming in. Just letting you know." Reaper's strange voice echoed behind the other side of the door.

 

"Fuck. Wait, don’t." Soldier: 76 said quickly, not ready to face Reaper again right now.

 

"Are you dressed?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fucking dressed." He replied irritably. "I'm just not awake yet."

 

"Then it's fine." Reaper replied as the door opened.

 

_Goddamn you._

 

He turned his head, watching Reaper enter. He was carrying... something, some sort of tray, but Soldier: 76 couldn't quite make it out from the position he was lying in.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I don't know how long it's been since you've had something to eat or drink, but it's been too long at best and way too fucking long at worst and I'm betting on the latter." Reaper said sarcastically, putting the tray down at the edge of the bed.

 

Soldier: 76 squinted from behind his visor and sat up slightly, scrutinizing the object that had just been placed there. There was a glass of water, a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and some kind of meat; all neatly placed on a beaten up, dented baking sheet.

 

"It's the best I could do under the circumstances." Reaper confessed. "This place is a dump, but I hadn't planned on being here for very long anyway. At least it's something."

 

"I. Uh." Soldier: 76 stammered, not really knowing how to react.

 

"Hm?"

 

"Thank. You." Soldier: 76 said awkwardly.

 

"You're welcome." 

 

_But... I, I can't._

 

"Get out." Soldier: 76 snapped, immediately regretting how harsh his words came out.

 

"Excuse me?" Reaper said derisively, crossing his arms. "Some gratitude,  _pendejo_."

 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. But... you have to leave. Now." Soldier: 76 said roughly.

 

"Come on... Seventy-s-"

 

" ** _No._** "

 

"Fine." Reaper said defeatedly, turning and trudging back out the way he came.

 

“And shut the door behind you.”

 

" _ **¡Maldita sea!**_ " Reaper called back sharply in an angry tone as he slammed the door.

 

 

* * *

 

Reaper paced irritably once he was out of Soldier: 76's sight. He'd done well at faking it the whole time, but his composure was beginning to wear thin; his nerves frayed and his heart sore from their sudden and unexpected reunion. Though he did a good job of pretending, this whole encounter had been incredibly difficult for him as well and he knew that strain would eventually show through if he couldn't make some sort of tangible progress.

 

_He was always grumpy in the morning..._

 

He continued blazing a trail back and forth over the ancient faded carpet as he tried to convince himself things weren't all that bad. Maybe Soldier: 76 had some sort of legitimate reason for forcing him to leave. Other than being a complete and total asshole, anyway.

 

_Damn it._

 

After a few minutes had gone by, Reaper's curiosity got the better of him. Once the realization that Soldier: 76 would obviously have to remove his mask in order to eat had crossed his mind, Reaper simply couldn't stave off the urge of trying to see for himself. The chance of finding a genuine reason for Soldier: 76 throwing him out and the possibility of seeing his face was too potent a combination for Reaper to resist.

 

Carefully sneaking back to the door, Reaper listened, taking in all of the minutest of sounds. And using the best estimate of placement he could come up with, Reaper began the process of breaking himself down again; effectively teleporting into the next room without reforming. It was a state he could not sustain for long, but he wouldn't need to.

 

What awaited him on the other side of the door was very strange indeed. Soldier: 76 was sitting in the middle of the bed, back facing Reaper as his face was pointed towards the wall, tray in front of him. Reaper could see that the base of whatever that respirator/visor thing was, was lifted up somehow. He could see the top of it protruding slightly above Soldier: 76's colorless hair. But that's all he could see without somehow trying to navigate around to Soldier: 76's side. And that would've been far too risky because it would've opened up the possibility of being spotted out of Soldier: 76's peripheral vision. Further frustrated, Reaper re-materialized on the other side of the door.

 

_The fuck is his problem?_

 

Reaper continued to stand in place behind the door for several minutes until he could hear the sounds of cups and utensils being placed back on the tray and then the faint noises of Soldier: 76 snapping the latches on his boots. And just as he'd suspected from that moment, it was followed by the continuous sounds of Soldier: 76 putting everything back on in order.

 

 _Please._ **_No_** _. Wait..._

 

He'd suspected this outcome, and yet it was much more painful than he'd prepared himself for.

 

_You're not going to leave, just like that? Are you?_

 

Reaper had already made the proper provisions to ensure that he didn't lose Soldier: 76 forever. That tracking device he’d planted would keep tabs on Soldier: 76 wherever he went. But that did not mean that Reaper wanted to separate from him so soon, or be completely abandoned like this.

 

Clenching his teeth, Reaper struggled with himself to stay still and silent as he heard the sound of the window being pushed open.

 

Reaper could have gone after him but decided not to, for Soldier: 76's sake alone; though it was all Reaper wanted in the world. To follow him, to rescue him and bring him back and explain everything instead of playing this childish, manipulative game of cat and mouse that he’d set up. To fix the terrible mess that he had made of both their lives, and in the right way. To take care of the broken shell he had made of Soldier: 76. It would've been honorable. Goddamn heroic.

 

_Except you're a fucking monster. And he knows it better than anyone else._

 

A few moments after he heard the sounds of Soldier: 76's boots hitting the ground outside, Reaper opened the door and walked in. And of course he found exactly what he'd expected. Other than his discarded dishes, there was no evidence that Soldier: 76 had ever even been there. Sighing deeply, Reaper walked over to the window and peered outside. He could see Soldier: 76 faintly in the distance, growing smaller and smaller as he sprinted away.

 

Growling, Reaper quickly spun around and stomped away from the window, not wanting to witness Soldier: 76  fading completely from view. Watching him walk away like this; knowing that in Jack’s mind it could very well be the last time, and being okay with it, was not something Reaper could bear to experience ever again.

 

Reaper panted erratically; breath shallow and strained as his compromised lungs struggled to expand. He felt as though his head would explode from the pressure inside his skull as the room seemed to be orbiting around him. He had broken out in a cold sweat and debilitating waves of vertigo reverberated through his body as everything came crashing down. He thought the walls might just close in on him completely.

 

His vital processes, while typically abysmally low, were now elevated; respiration and heart rate climbing to almost average levels. Being so violently thrust from his typical system-wide lethargy had increased the constant state of chronic pain he was always in, leaving him feeling as if all of the fluids in his body had suddenly been turned into corrosive acid. It seared through him mercilessly, like he was being slowly dissolved and ripped apart from the inside out.

 

All night, he'd struggled so desperately to pretend that he had been fine. To be that strong, grounding support that Soldier: 76 had needed. But now that he was gone, everything Reaper had been holding back all night violently exploded.

 

Falling to his knees, Reaper landed on the floor with a heavy thud, metallic claws buried in his curly hair. Hot tears of despair shamelessly spilled from his lifeless eyes, staining his skin crimson.

 

_Why, why did it have to turn out this way?!_

 

Tilting his head back, Reaper erupted with all the fury, agony and self-loathing he'd harbored for so long, his deep, ghastly voice reverberating through the tiny room.

 


	7. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After observing Soldier: 76 for a while, Reaper plots his next move.

Reaper ticked off each lonely, slowly passing day as the dreary months dragged on into a faded blur. All the while, he studied Soldier: 76's activity; tracking his movements and location at least once every morning and occasionally during the evenings as well. It had become much like checking the daily news reports and was the only stable part of Reaper's routine. While he wasn't entirely sure what Soldier: 76's goal was at the beginning; there had been a series of several blips on the radar, spread out all over the globe during those first few weeks. However, it was not anything one could call a direct route or predictable path. It seemed erratic at best.

 

But after wandering around the world seemingly aimlessly for a while, it appeared that Soldier: 76 had eventually taken up homestead somewhere in Colorado. All of the satellite images Reaper had been able to pull up of the location showed nothing but empty, mountainous terrain; and while the area was certainly picturesque, it appeared completely uninhabited.

 

Either Soldier: 76 was incredibly lucky in choosing his current home base, or he was damned well aware of what he was doing. Reaper had the correct answer to such a hypothetical question, and it was simultaneously frustrating and amusing. The man certainly knew how to disappear when he wanted to.

 

Even though Reaper realized that worrying was probably unnecessary, there was certainly something comforting about being able to see that Soldier: 76 was out there somewhere. At first he took solace in seeing that Soldier: 76 was very active; but once he'd seemingly bunkered down covertly in a secure place, Reaper found that even more to his liking. Nice and safe.

 

After his scheduled nightly check up on Soldier: 76, Reaper brought up the calendar file on his laptop screen and reviewed the data. A little over three months in total since they had last seen each other, and exactly fifteen days since Soldier: 76 had holed himself up in the Rocky Mountains.

 

Lightly scratching at his bearded chin with elongated fingernails, Reaper pondered situation as he reviewed all the dates and locations. This whole time, Reaper had been fighting an internal argument; constantly reminding himself that being patient would pay off in the end. Ultimately, he always forced himself to continue waiting even though it was a constant struggle to choose inaction.

 

But tonight, it was different. Pulling his black hooded sweatshirt around him, Reaper hunched over his computer screen as he carefully double checked everything.

 

_It's time to move. Finally._

 

Originally, Reaper had no idea what what he'd discover from observing Soldier: 76 and no real expectations. Patiently watching and waiting had been a prudent decision in the beginning. But intuitively, it felt like now was the right opportunity he had been waiting for. It was the perfect chance to formulate a real plan of action, and make his move.

 

Soldier: 76 had been given plenty of time and distance to think things over. And according to Reaper's calculations, he'd never taken more than a short trip away from where he was currently staying. Those brief outings were probably nothing more than him going out to acquire provisions during the course of the past two weeks. He was likely starting to feel a little stir crazy, out there alone and trapped with nothing but his own thoughts. At least that was what Reaper was hoping for.

 

He suspected that if he allowed too much time to pass, Soldier: 76 would eventually become active and more mobile again. Whether this current downtime was initiated by the need for a recuperative period, having to lay low for a while, or a deliberate vacation — it wouldn't last forever. He'd eventually pick up the pace and start moving again, and if Reaper allowed that it would complicate things.

 

And Reaper also knew that if he allowed that to happen, he could be putting himself at a great disadvantage. Wherever he was, if Soldier: 76 felt like he was on his home turf and things were a little more on his own terms, it could potentially improve the results. Although more or less invading his territory could have its own set of problems, Reaper reasoned it was better than trying to track him down while he was frantically on the run. But he had already accepted that no matter what he ultimately decided on doing, it wasn't going to be easy.

 

Reaper shut his laptop off and began packing. It wouldn't take him long at all to prepare as he always traveled light these days, but as he was gathering his necessary belongings he caught himself procrastinating. More than once.

 

_Why is this so hard?_

 

Frustrated with himself, Reaper sat down at his desk again, face buried in his hands as he slumped in his chair. He had been impatiently and anxiously waiting for what seemed like years, for this moment. And now that it was finally here, he felt terribly uneasy and was second-guessing everything. What if this ridiculous farce was doomed from the start? There were absolutely no guarantees, not even a tiny sliver of hope that any of his efforts would lead to a good conclusion. Closure wasn't even assured. Approaching Soldier: 76 again for any reason would be an uncertain and perilous meeting; and he understood that it would be incredibly difficult and excruciating for both of them, no matter the result.

 

 _But no matter what happens, you have to at least_ **_try_** _._

 

Groaning, Reaper rubbed his face and then stood again, determined to follow through with his plans, despite the ever-growing negativity that seemed to build inside him with each passing moment.

 

A few minutes later, Reaper was staring into the open tactical sling bag resting on his bed, his fingers loosely hooked into the pockets of his jeans as he frowned down at his computer and the small collection of items and gear he'd packed. Not much progress overall but at least he’d gathered the essentials. Satisfied that he hadn't forgotten anything vital, he zipped it up and prepared for the last, but most important steps.

 

He nodded to himself, and with a heavy sigh he began gathering up his more “professional” attire. A few minutes later, he was slipping into his form fitting black tactical apparel and checking the more personal parts of his gear that he always kept closer to his body.

 

His hellfire shotguns were reloaded and placed into their holsters in turn, before he began stashing various technical gadgets and tools into the hidden compartments of his cloak. He then strapped his ammo belt across his chest and pulled it tightly before sliding his mask on over his face and securing it. Leaning forward, he grabbed his customized gloves and carefully slipped them over his hands, his own nails protected beneath the metal claws. Lastly, he slowly raised the hood of his cloak up, covering the back of his head and completing the last step in effectively concealing himself.

 

Reaper took one final look around his apartment, making sure he hadn’t overlooked anything important, before glancing over at the clock.

 

_Stop delaying things._

 

Mentally steeling himself for the calamity that was no doubt to come, he grabbed his belongings and headed out the door, securing several locks behind him.

 

 _Traveling halfway across the world to stalk the man everyone thinks you attempted to assassinate._ **_Fucking brilliant_** _._

 

Reaper knew it was going to be a long night, and possibly one of many more to come. Trying to stave off the doomed, sinking feeling in his chest, he headed out into the darkness, destined for Colorado.

 

_You made this mess, now fucking fix it._

 

There was only one last problem to take care of. He'd have to find a good place to stop and satisfy his hunger somewhere along the way. It wouldn't be that much of a problem considering his prey was usually in ample supply, but he needed to fully sate his cravings before searching out Soldier: 76. Gorging himself was an indulgence he didn't often allow, but he wouldn't be doing this out of extravagance.

 

If he was well fed before he arrived, the longer he could linger around without having to sneak off to feed; and the more even and controlled his temperament would be during their meeting, as well. Hanging on from the edge of starvation while in the middle of nowhere, alone with Jack would have been terribly short sighted on his part, regardless. And dangerous.

 

But it was also rather unfortunate. This would be one of the only situations outside of combat that he had ever allowed himself to fully satisfy the terrible pangs of hunger that always tormented him, and it wouldn't even be that enjoyable. This time, hunting would be fully out of necessity — not luxury. And he had far more important matters on his mind.

 


	8. Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier: 76 has a rough morning, alone in Colorado.

It was an unseasonably cold and windy day in Zürich for this time of year. And something ominous lingered in the air. That strange aura, the anxious premonition that he sometimes felt was rarely, if ever, wrong. And it had saved his life on more than one occasion on the battlefield. But this was the strongest twinge of warning that his intuition had ever given him. Of course, he had his reasons for feeling so worried and unsettled; but his state of mind had been tainted with an unshakable and permeating sensation of impending dread when Strike Commander Morrison put his uniform on that fateful day.

 

_There's absolutely nothing I can do to save Overwatch. I'll be lucky if I can save my own head._

 

Though he would've sacrificed himself for Overwatch without question, if it would've done any bit of good for anyone involved, at all.

 

Sunlight. Despite the chilly day, the Swiss summer sun was gleaming down on him. Radiant and bright, it nearly blinded him as it flooded his vision. Such a lovely thing, even if his eyes couldn't quite withstand it. Squinting, he raised his free hand to his brow and looked into the distance; his other hand securing the heavy pulse rifle that had become his signature weapon, against his chest. Looking down as he lowered his arm again, he studied the rifle. Gray and sky-blue. Different somehow… but he couldn't quite figure out why. The colors were so incredibly bright though, he studied it, temporarily distracted.

 

_Something's wrong... Pay attention!_

 

Jerking suddenly, Commander Morrison gasped as he looked into the distance again. He peered across the same stretch of land as before, only this time it wasn't vacant. There was a man there, quite a bit away. The sun's position cast stark and heavy shadows over the man's outline, but he would know that silhouette anywhere.

 

_Reyes?_

 

He was standing there, motionless; not coming any closer nor moving further away. Morrison was starting to wonder if it was an illusion, or if he was just imagining things. As that awful grasp of imminent destruction grew stronger still, he struggled to stay on his feet. Feeling like he might faint, he instinctively pulled his rifle closer, then turned his head and glanced over his shoulder…

 

The force was so powerful that he felt as though his entire body was being ripped into tiny pieces, and the momentum from the blast was so intense that he was absolutely powerless to do anything against its wrath. Sailing through the air like a tiny and insignificant object, he was at the mercy of whatever it was that fate had in store for him.  

 

The pain came first, nerve responses extreme and razor-sharp. There was no doubt that several bones had been broken, and the agony in his head was so severe that he wondered that if he'd shattered his skull on impact. And the wetness, cold wetness soaking through his clothing and coating his entire body. No doubt his own blood.

 

Pitch black. Complete and utter darkness. Abysmal and all-consuming, this darkness was so oppressive and of a kind that he had never known before. But now, it was to be his constant companion, lingering in the background after he had long since conquered it.

 

And the sound. God, the sound. The discordant, reverberating rage of a thousand storms wouldn't have been even a fragment of the level of sonic vibrations that assaulted his ears. The pressure built and built well past the threshold of what he could withstand, until the roaring dissonance had elevated to a thunderous burst. Then that too, had faded out into complete and total nothingness.

 

Somehow the initial push of his will to survive that was initiated when the blast first hit had trickled down to nothingness as well. Everything had slowed to a tiny crawl as his body continued to shut down.

 

Commander Morrison didn't mind. He was very tired now, and maybe everything would work out for the better this way. Maybe his death would somehow salvage Overwatch after all. And then, Reyes could take his place. He probably would've made a far better leader anyway.

 

_But wait, wasn't... he..._

 

Suddenly, as that harrowing thought hit him, a deep and incredibly painful cough racked his extremely damaged body. His lungs struggled for air as he shook violently, finally expelling a large mass of blood.

 

_Gabriel…_

 

With a congested choking scream, Soldier: 76 struggled for breath as his respirator switched modes to supply him with more oxygen. Caked in cold sweat, he panted loudly as he sat up. Scanning the room, he looked around frenetically, his visor-plated gaze seeking anything that could be viewed as a potential threat.

 

Lost in the throes of panic, his heart was pounding in his chest as his blood throbbed in his ears. His vision was glitching slightly beneath the confines of those red lenses; and through the haze of an adrenaline saturated horror, it took him a moment to realize exactly what was going on.

 

_Another goddamned nightmare._

 

Leaning forward, he slouched in his bed, heavy blanket now draped across his lap. He desperately tried to focus and stave off the waves of nausea that disoriented him.

 

He wondered how many fucking times was he going to have to relive that day, over and over again. It didn't seem fair and no matter how diligently he strived to push it out of his thoughts forever, it was always there and looming in the back of his mind.

 

The minutes ticked by slowly, as Soldier: 76 attempted to calm his frayed nerves.

 

Eventually, he forced himself out of bed and into his morning ritual but he was mechanically doing things out of habit. It was a rhythm that he had unfortunately adopted long ago, and it wasn't hard for him to fall back into his tendencies of just robotically going through the motions of a normal life. Unless he was out on a mission with his feet on the ground, more often than not… he felt nothing at all.

 

Except for the constant nightmares.

 

Though a few months back, that unexpected encounter with "Reaper" had changed everything. He had given up hope that Gabriel Reyes was actually alive out there somewhere, long ago. And during those days, when he still clinged on to that hope, anytime he asked about Gabe he was immediately reminded that Reyes had been responsible for the incident at Zürich. At first, he had been unwilling to believe it. It was only after being shown the evidence of several internal and external investigative reports that he'd begun to accept the fact. Sure, things hadn't been great between them for a while but... actually trying to kill him? And deliberately destroying Overwatch's main headquarters in the process?

 

It just didn't add up. It didn't make sense to him until he ultimately gave into the constant reinforcement being fed to him, that it was indeed Gabriel Reyes' doing. Eventually he submitted to defeat, realizing that it was his own wishful thinking and personal feelings towards Reyes that made him so stubborn on the subject to begin with.

 

But if it was true, as he'd begrudgingly accepted in time, it also meant that all of his problems — his lifelong disabilities, the many months of unfathomable pain he'd suffered, and the years of his seemingly hopeless and difficult recovery — were also Reyes' fault.

 

Soldier: 76 stared blankly down at the bottom of the tub, as the water swirled and vanished down the drain. Focused on his own thoughts, he didn't really feel the warm mist splashing against his body. He wasn't even aware of the sensation of it hitting his rarely exposed face, which was something he typically enjoyed immensely. It felt very freeing, and was one of the only simple pleasures he had left, though it came at the cost of nearly his entire array of sensory perception.

 

Since that astronomically improbable chance encounter three months ago, things had been different. All his rogue thoughts and returning memories; doubts and wishes had been brought back to the surface. And he had worked so desperately hard to suppress these things, in order to survive. And now, the entire mess had been stirred up, and eventually worked its way back to the top. And this time, he found it much harder to try to shove it all back down again. It was different now. Gabriel Reyes… was **_alive_**.

 

And that uneasy feeling, the intuitive premonition of danger, was still with him. He wasn't sure if it was because of the dream he just had, lingering well past its welcome,  or if there was something in the present he needed to pay attention to.

 

Still slumped rather absentmindedly in the shower, Soldier: 76 had not realized the water had cooled until the notion hit him, the need to be vigilant snapping him back into the present. Growing restless, he frantically felt for the knobs, turning the shower off and searched for his towel. Once dried off, he quickly stumbled across the room and made his way to the sink, fingers seeking the armored prosthetic he relied on so heavily these days. His breathing was strained and difficult, shallow gasps for air weakly uttered as he searched for his mask.

 

As soon as he felt it's smooth surface, his anxiety immediately decreased somewhat. It wasn't a huge improvement but at least it was something. A small, nagging part of him always worried that it wouldn't be there where he'd left it every time he took it off.

 

A moment later he hastily snapped the breathing tubes in place, and attached the apparatus into the grooves mounted where his ears once were. Hinges mechanically turned as he pressed the face plate down and snapped it into the metallic base permanently attached to his chin.

 

Senses were flooded with the rejuvenating waves of input, respirator immediately engaging to supply him with pure, clean oxygen. He scanned the room with a new sense of vigilance, looking and listening for anything amiss. Everything seemed to be clear.

 

Cursing under his breath, Soldier: 76 scolded himself for always being so goddamn paranoid each and every single time he took his visor off. Not once had he ever discovered anything wrong after putting it back on, but the fear of something happening while he was so completely vulnerable, had never ceased.

 

With hearing and vision now fully restored, Soldier: 76 didn't waste any time in getting dressed. And it wasn't only his worrying that prompted him to do so. Winter in Colorado wasn't exactly temperate and it was rather cold in the room, despite having the heat on. A couple of minutes later he was walking out of the bathroom, wearing tan work boots, a pair of khakis and a thick red and blue check flannel shirt.

 

He walked to the fridge with the intention of finding something to have for breakfast, though eating was just one more thing on the list that he rarely gained any true pleasure from these days. It was simply a routine necessity to keep himself nourished. As he glanced around the rather bare shelves, he grumbled to himself and shut the door. For now, coffee would do. Though it was always more of a task than anything, he didn't feel very much like eating now. His stomach was in knots, chest cramped and aching — as that still present sensation, the apprehensive instinct of impending danger, refused to let go. The icy claws of dread were hooked in tight today, and it was getting on his damned nerves.

 

_Get a hold of yourself. It was only a fucking dream._

  



	9. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper finally realizes why Soldier:76 is so defensive about the suggestion of taking off his visor.

Reaper watched from the shadows with amusement, as Soldier: 76 peered into the fridge. He had been waiting with anticipation ever since his arrival, carefully placing himself into a position where he would not be easily seen while Soldier: 76 had been in the shower.

 

Lurking in his shadowy state for any length of time was often very painful, but he was so excited to see Soldier: 76 again that he barely noticed. John Fucking Morrison, in his tacky ass civilian clothes. Deep down, Reaper knew that things were going to get incredibly tense and messy soon, but he couldn't help but enjoy the moment. And if he had been physically formed, no doubt he would have smiled.

 

He couldn't linger here like this for too terribly long, but Reaper wanted to at least get a feel for the place and gauge Soldier: 76's current temperament before making an official appearance. Reaper watched him go through the motions of preparing a cup of coffee.

 

_Good. Get some caffeine in you, you grumpy old **bastardo**. _

 

As Soldier: 76 moved about; getting water from the tap, coffee canister from a nearby shelf, cup from the counter — Reaper would temporarily and briefly reform whenever he was certain he was out of view, in order to prolong the time he could ultimately spend in his ethereal state when it was needed. Each time he played this phasing game though, Soldier: 76 seemed to somehow notice that  _something_ was amiss. He didn't have enough awareness to actually catch him in the act, but Reaper was very aware of his timing, when Soldier: 76 would pause and glance around.

 

_It's that damn thing on your face, isn't it? I'm going to have to be even more careful around you than I thought._

 

Eventually, Reaper decided to position himself outside briefly until Soldier: 76 settled down. Of course, if the old man had decided to look outside the right window at the right time, it would've had disastrous consequences. Reaper stood out to comically ridiculous levels in this environment, his black attire contrasting sharply against the snow covered ground and icy trees of a wintery Colorado morning.

 

A moment after hearing the distinctive scrape of chair legs dragging across the floor, Reaper carefully prepared to teleport back to the exact space he'd been in before. Soldier: 76 was sitting at the kitchen table, steaming cup of coffee in front of him, as Reaper manifested a short distance away.

 

As he came into being, Reaper saw that Soldier: 76's visor was up, exactly how it had been lifted before when he'd brought Soldier: 76 something to eat in Gibraltar. Except this time, his positioning was different and he could somewhat see the side of Soldier: 76's face.

 

Suddenly, it was as if the bottom of Reaper's entire world had just collapsed beneath him.

 

_¡Dios mío… q, qué?_

 

Heart accelerating in his chest, Reaper reformed before he could even catch himself; the sight of Jack’s damaged face leaving him in a state of complete and abhorrent shock as the truth slowly filtered throughout his mind.

 

Somehow, this possibility had never entered Reaper's constant musings, though he now realized how painfully obvious it all was. But aside from the wrinkles around his brow, and that his formerly bright blond hair had faded, it was always still the same Jack under there. That was all Reaper had ever envisioned.

 

Though that was anything but what he was being forced to quickly come to terms with.

 

Despite the haze of consternation assailing him, Reaper managed to dissolve himself again, by some means. His mind was still trying to grasp what his eyes were seeing, and it was only through pure instinct that he managed to cloak himself this time.

 

He waited, anticipating the hysteric outburst that would no doubt be thrown his way, Soldier: 76 poised to either confront him or try to escape.

 

And yet neither happened. He simply sat there, obliviously drinking his coffee.

 

_That was sloppy of me. Careless. There's no way you didn't at least notice **something**... _

 

Cautiously, Reaper reformed his arm in part, wiggling his clawed fingers at Soldier: 76.

 

No response. Nothing.

 

_Por favor... no._

 

Heart sinking ever further, Reaper fully came into being to test his theory. He stood there, in plain sight and still, Soldier: 76 did not see him. At all.

 

_You're. Blind? Aren't you...?_

 

Bracing himself, Reaper remained completely silent as he shifted his position, teleporting in front of Soldier: 76. Once situated, he simply allowed himself to remain in a wispy, ghostly fog. And only when there was still no reaction, did he come to a corporeal state directly in front of Soldier: 76.

 

Jaw locked tightly, Reaper struggled to force down and squelch the noises of sorrowful dismay that were stuck in his throat as he studied Soldier: 76 head on.

 

Soldier: 76's visor was apparently lifted by some sort of hinge mechanism around his ears, the whole device raised up to allow access to his mouth. Beneath it, a lifeless milky white stare gazed emptily into the distance. Parts along the bridge of Soldier: 76's chiseled nose were missing, and Reaper could see the mechanical tubes beneath, trailing from his nostrils to the larger coils on the outside of the apparatus. Jack Morrison's formerly handsome face was heavily disfigured, darkened trails of endless scarring maimed his skin from seemingly all directions, and it also appeared that what had before seemed to be a simple base for his visor to attach to, was in fact, a prosthetic metal jaw.

 

**_No puede ser... ¡Dios mío!_ **

 

Assailed with an overwhelming sensation of grief, he stared, aghast, at what Soldier: 76 had become.

 

Not able to withstand it any longer, Reaper quickly dispersed yet again, this time leaving the isolated cabin entirely as he formed on the other side of the walls. He ran into the forest as fast as his strong legs would carry him.

 

There was no telling how far out into the woods he'd actually gone when Reaper finally allowed himself to let out the horrified scream of revulsion that had been building in his core from the moment he laid eyes upon what had once been Strike Commander John "Jack" Morrison.

 

Panting heavily, he collapsed into the snow. Staring up unfocused at the pale and dreary sky, Reaper was filled with all-consuming feelings of abhorrence and wretchedness as the miserable truth sank in.

 

 _You fucking worthless piece of shit._ **_You_ ** _did this to him._

 

Quickly jumping up, Reaper dashed deeper into the forest, animalistic growls of pent-up rage directed at anything and everything in his path. Shredded leaves, mangled trees and gashed splintered bits of wood took the full brunt of his unbridled and ruthless assault, though what Reaper wanted to destroy the most, was himself.

 

It was only after Reaper had fully exhausted his body, that he finally flopped down into the snow, sitting in the middle of his disheveled path of heedless destruction. Breathing hard, he tried to regain his bearings now that his violent frenzy had finally come to an end.

 

Sniffing loudly, he reached beneath his mask and wiped at the back of his cheeks with his left hand, before he stared down shamefully into the disturbed and dirty snow.

 

Embellished fingers trailing downward, he tugged underneath the collar of his skin tight shirt until he felt the familiar ball chain beneath his grasp. He tugged at it, snapping the breakaway clasp as he pulled the chain away from his chest.

 

Another wave of self-hatred traveled through him as he looked down at the embossed steel tags carefully resting in his palm.

 

MORRISON

JOHN H.

359-89-7676

O POS

PROTESTANT

 

As he twirled and slid the dog tags between his fingers, he gazed listlessly into the distance.

 

_No matter what he does do you, no matter how bad it is, you fucking deserve it. But you have to go back in there. No matter what._

 

Attaching the clasp, Reaper slid the dog tags that he'd treasured and held so close for the past six years, back in beneath his shirt. With a heavy sense of dread, he slowly rose to his feet and turned, looking back towards the house that lie somewhere on the other side of the forest.

 

_Voy a cuidar de ti..._

  
It was a promise he'd uttered three months ago. And even though he'd honestly had no idea how hard it was going to be when he'd first said it, he'd meant it. More than he'd ever meant anything in his entire cursed existence. And he was going to make good on it, one way or another.


	10. Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Reaper regretfully realizes that his entire plan could be a lost cause, a unexpected advantage presents itself.

The closer the secluded cabin came into view, the more Reaper considered giving up on the whole idea. His feet felt heavier with each and every step that brought him closer to Soldier: 76's home base. He begrudgingly realized he didn't have a cohesive plan of action anymore. Once he finally arrived, then what? What was he supposed to do? How in the world was he supposed to handle _this_?

 

Before making the journey to Colorado, Reaper had done all he could to prepare himself. He'd spent so many hours thinking about him — the strangely different, and altogether hostile ghost of the once sanguine man he used to know so well. All those days he'd spent in surveillance had also been put to use in trying to figure out the best way to approach Soldier: 76, and then handle the extreme fallout that would assuredly come.

 

And after giving it much consideration, Reaper thought he had properly understood the situation. He was prepared for a rough ride, but he had been relying on the concept that he at least had the tools necessary to take on this already ruined task. That had been a glaring error in judgement.

 

All of his meticulously made preparations now seemed to be little more than ashes at his feet, and he was left with nothing but increased levels of anxiety and regret. Everything had fallen apart within mere minutes of arriving. Those long, weary days had been spent in devising a solid plan of action, and it was all for nothing.

 

Everything had changed once Reaper had seen Soldier: 76's face. Mentally, he was still kicking himself for never considering this outcome. After all, he had personally sustained extreme trauma — enough to theoretically kill him. But somehow, all this time he'd assumed all of Soldier: 76's wounds were solely emotional. It was embarrassingly shortsighted — downright naïve of him to infer that, and he realized it now.

 

_Goddamnit. You really didn't think this out at all, did you?_

 

He wasn't about to give up on Jack, his guilt wouldn’t allow him to. But now the situation had far more layers and was definitely greater than he'd thought. And this part, he hadn't prepared for at all. It would be even more difficult to conceal his own emotions and appear fully even, when the time called for it. That had been far from easy in Gibraltar, but only a fraction of the totality of what he was facing now. He wasn't so certain he could keep his walls intact this time. But all of this was also assuming he could even approach Soldier: 76.

 

What was he supposed to do now? Simply appear in the man's house suddenly, with no introduction as if he were staging a home invasion? Or maybe, knock on the fucking door?

 

_Hi Jack, just thought I'd stop in for a visit... You know, catch up on old times… Sorry I fucked everything up by the way..._

 

Reaper simply couldn't come up with any solution that would allow him to insert himself back into the situation without the risk of scaring Soldier: 76 out of his fucking wits, or pissing him off beyond all consolation. Actually, both outcomes intertwined — was the most likely result. Not exactly good. But that was what Reaper would take upon himself to handle, if he absolutely had to.

 

He wasn't sure how he'd mitigate the damage if it came down to the worst possible option, but he would find a way. The main reason he so desperately didn't want it to come to that, was out of concern for Jack. Pushing him towards another PTSD meltdown was the last thing Reaper wanted to make him go through right now.

 

In truth, this potential scenario had been a problem from the start; and one he'd never solidified a solution for. He’d had some ideas, but after having to come to terms with the genuine level of trauma he'd caused, Reaper was now feeling incredibly shaken. His former level of confidence, as scant as it might have been, was depleted further still.

 

He'd most likely end up watching Soldier: 76 under the concealment of his unformed state, again. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to do, but it seemed to be genuinely, the only option for now. Reaper wanted to get this precarious first stage over with, as soon as possible, if he had no other choice but to go back. The nagging worry of accidentally witnessing more things he honestly didn't want to see, lingered as well.

 

And to complicate things further still, were the inherent risks of ultimately being noticed — no matter what he did. That damned thing on Soldier: 76's face seemed to provide him with something beyond standard vision. Reaper hadn't forgotten that somehow, Soldier: 76 was more aware of a presence or disturbance, than he should've been.

 

Reaper really didn't know what to do. All he knew for sure was that he had to try to do something to fix things, even if it all ended in futility — though there really wasn't much hope to cling on to, that any of this could ever be made right, again.

 

Now, as Reaper was making his way back to ground central, his mood was souring further still. He gloomily realized he simply wasn't equipped to deal with this type of emotionally charged dilemma.

 

He could've easily shifted his state of matter, phased out entirely and vanished into thin air without a trace. He also could've taken Soldier: 76 out with ease, most likely. Though he was well aware of Soldier: 76's skill and superhuman strength, Reaper's transformation had taken everything to a level totally unmatched by his former comrade. But this delicate nice guy bullshit was beyond his capabilities, and that was becoming abundantly clear.

 

Grumbling, Reaper made his way towards the backyard, when suddenly he saw motion out of the corner of his eye. Turning slightly, Reaper ducked behind a nearby tree and peeked from behind it.

 

_What the fuck is that asshole doing out here?_

 

It had started to snow again, and rather heavily during Reaper's trip back to the cabin, and he had a hard time figuring out exactly what it was that Soldier: 76 was up to at first, through the blur of white.

 

Until he heard the loud raspy grunt, as Soldier: 76 brought the axe down forcefully, effectively splitting a medium-size log in twain.

 

Reaper smirked under his mask as he waited and watched Soldier: 76 chop firewood, making relatively short work of the large pile of logs behind him. He seemed to be striking his mark each time, with extreme and increasing vitriol, as if he had some sort of vendetta to enact. At first it was humorous, but the sight was growing increasingly alarming, with how much force and rage he was putting into such a simple chore.

 

It seemed incredibly out of place, and a waste of energy for Soldier: 76 to be putting this much effort into the task. Not that Reaper had any room to talk after the rampage he’d been on, in the woods earlier that morning. But it didn’t seem right, or sit well with him at all, to watch Soldier: 76 overexert himself this way for no damned reason.

 

Reaper had been so preoccupied with watching Soldier: 76 work, that the realization hadn't dawned on him at first.

 

_Wait. Oh, fuck!_

 

How long had Soldier: 76 been out here? And exactly how long had it been snowing?

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

Ducking back behind the tree, Reaper dematerialized and worked his way back around to the other side of the cabin, searching for his own set of footprints.

 

_¡Hijo de puta!_  

 

At least he was careful enough to not make his obvious trail worse this time, by adding to it.

 

Frustrated with himself, Reaper eventually found his original set of tracks. They were quickly being buried beneath layers of newly fallen snow, but were still slightly visible. Possibly not enough to alert Soldier: 76 now, but that still left the question: how long had Soldier: 76 been outside?

 

Cursing under his breath, Reaper circumnavigated the cabin once again, returning to the tree he'd been hiding behind previously. He carefully observed Soldier: 76 again, trying to ascertain whether or not he'd already given himself away.

 

_So fucking sloppy today…_ _¡D_ _ios mio!_

 

Seeing Jack's face for the first time in years, and in such a state so different than what he'd always imagined, had completely wrecked his composure. Now he was making stupid mistakes as result.

 

Lamenting the huge mess he'd potentially made of everything, Reaper was once again regretting ever coming out here at all. He realized this wasn't exactly a normal set of circumstances he was up against, and knew he'd never have been so unskilled in any other situation — but that knowledge did precious little to help things. All it did, was drive home the point that he wasn’t cut out for the job of helping Jack; and he knew that if he kept going with this ridiculous idea, things would probably get even worse.

 

Groaning, he carefully prepared to lean forward and look toward Soldier: 76 again to see if any of his movements had been noticed.

 

Suddenly, a gasp hung in his throat as the sensation of a pulse round bolted past his ear, barely missing the side of his mask.

 

"I fucking know you're here! Show yourself before I blast a fucking hole through you, you goddamn son of a bitch!"

 

_¡Mierda!_

 

Grunting, Reaper darted behind the same tree again, his back so firmly pressed against it's jagged bark that he was practically sinking into it. Cursing under his breath, he quickly tried to think of the best way to handle being discovered. It could possibly be a very bad turn of events, being found out like this. Though, if he could manage to handle it well, these new circumstances could actually be to his benefit. At least it had solved the impossible problem of finding some way of alerting Soldier: 76 to his presence.

 

_Well that's one thing out of the fucking way..._

 

Fantastic! If Reaper could manage to come out of this without getting shot, anyway.

 

"Jack!" Reaper yelled sharply from his secluded position. "I'm not here to hurt you."

 

"Jack is fucking  ** _dead!_ ** And you will be too, if you don't do exactly as I say!" Soldier: 76 barked. "Toss those guns of yours, right fucking now!"

 

"Yes, sir." Reaper called back sarcastically. A moment later, one of his hellfire shotguns was thrown from his position behind the tree, landing and then sinking into the snow.  The second of the pair quickly followed suit, landing with a dull thunk.

 

Once he understood that this sudden setup actually played into his hand, Reaper recovered quickly. He'd slyly manipulate the situation behind the scenes in order to seemingly pass all of the control to Soldier: 76. What had once seemed a disaster was now potentially good fortune — and he wasn't about to let it slip away.

 

At any rate, it was far better than showing up inside the house unannounced.

 

"Are you happy now, **_Commander Morrison_**?" Reaper taunted.

 

"No! You come out of there right fucking now. Nice and slow... hands up where I can see them. And lose the fucking sarcasm!" Soldier: 76 demanded in a gravelly voice. "I'm not playing around with you, _Reaper_."

 

While he had half a mind to provoke Soldier: 76 into shooting him to get it out of his system, Reaper realized how poor of an idea that would be. While it certainly wouldn't prove fatal, he'd still need to heal and the ever-nagging hunger would return a lot more quickly than initially planned for if he was injured. Not only that, he'd ultimately have a great deal of explaining to do.

 

Grumbling lowly under his breath, Reaper raised his hands over his head and very slowly emerged from behind the tree he'd been using as cover. Soldier: 76 was standing a slight distance away, pulse rifle aimed directly at Reaper's face.

 

"You're lucky I didn't just fire my helix rockets and blow you to kingdom fucking come."

 

"Why... didn't you?"

 

"If it had been anybody else, I probably would have."

 

Reaper's eyes narrowed beneath his mask, at that comment.

 

"Thanks." Reaper said nonchalantly, burying the twinge of hope he felt at Soldier: 76's words underneath a layer of well-placed sarcasm.

 

"Just returning the favor. Consider it the last you'll get from me."

 

"How did you know it was me?" Reaper asked quickly.

 

"I didn't know who the hell it was it was, at first. Figuring out it was you didn't come until later."

 

"So. Are you still going to shoot me?"

 

"Haven't decided yet." Soldier: 76 said gruffly, the barrel of his rifle still pointed at Reaper. "Why don't you kick those guns of yours over here towards me, nice and slow. If I see you make one fucking move I don't like, it'll be your last, Reyes." He continued dryly, though his voice quivered as he spoke.

 

With a loud sigh, Reaper took a step forward, arms still raised over his head. "This isn't going to be so easy, with them buried in the damn snow."

 

"I'm sure you'll manage."

 

Looking Soldier: 76 over discreetly, Reaper took notice of how much his hands shook. Unsteady, just like his voice. He’d have to make this good, and plot his moves wisely. Soldier: 76 was a ticking time bomb and setting him off would probably be only one poor choice away.

 

"Seventy-six, I already said that I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not looking for trouble, I just want to talk t-."

 

"Quit screwing around with me and stop wasting time. I ain't nearly as patient as I used to be. Final warning, you understand?"

 

"Yeah, yeah I understand you..." Reaper trailed, the volume of his voice steadily decreasing as he spoke. He took another half-step forward before swiftly kicking at one of his shotguns and sending the weapon  — as well as a large arching spray of snow — towards Soldier: 76. "...Commander Morrison."

 

“What was that you fucking muttered?”

 

"Nothing..." Reaper sighed again, shoulders slumping very slightly as his stance softened; giving the visible impression that he was submitting. The effect was subtle, but he knew it needed to be. Enough for Soldier: 76 to notice, and nothing greater. Overplaying things would no doubt make him suspicious.

 

"Keep it that way." Soldier: 76 snapped. "Also, good job. Looks like you can still take orders." He said in a dry, condescending tone before motioning towards Reaper with his rifle.

 

A smirk spread across Reaper's face below the confines of his mask, as he witnessed how easily the former commander of Overwatch slipped back into the role of being in charge. As soon as it seemed that Reaper had conceded, Soldier: 76 seemed to change. The change was subtle as well; just as Reaper's had been only a moment before. But it was enough for Reaper to notice. Soldier: 76's posture improved, shoulders pressed back a bit more than before. He lifted his chin some as well, and Reaper was reasonably certain that if Soldier: 76 hadn't been masked, he would be currently looking down his nose at him.

 

Even though he was playing Soldier: 76 like a finely tuned guitar and it was exactly what Reaper wanted — no — needed to happen, that show of arrogance was somehow frustrating. As precarious as the moment was, it seemed that old habits still persisted beneath the surface.

 

“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, does it?” Reaper said glumly.

 

“Nope.” Soldier: 76 snarled. "Now. The other one. Nice and slow. No sudden moves."

 

Pivoting slightly, Reaper punted his second sidearm, watching the dense metal shotgun skip towards Soldier: 76 until it came to a stop a few inches away from his feet.

 

Leaning down, Soldier: 76 managed to keep his gaze focused on Reaper as he cautiously collected both hellfire shotguns, hooking them beneath his belt, one at a time. He then stood straight once more, his rifle still aimed directly at him.

 

Reaper huffed indignantly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Then, he slowly began to lower his arms slightly as if displaying what could be interpreted as fatigue, or simple impatience.

 

"You satisfied now?" Reaper asked with an irritated tone.

 

"You put your arms back up now! Hands up where I can see them!"

 

"...Fine." Reaper groaned, raising his arms again.

 

"You got any other weapons on you?"

 

"No."

 

"You're a fucking liar. C'mon Reyes, I know you. You have at least one knife on you, probably more."

 

"Look. Mor- Seventy-six. You have your rifle and pistol, and both of my shotguns. Are you really going to make me dig out my fucking knife?"

 

“You bet your ass I am.”

 

Reaper groaned with frustration, before shifting his cloak away from his body, clawed fingers busied with unhooking the strap around his right thigh. He deliberately took a little more time than necessary, to make it seem as though he was hesitant.

 

In truth, it was great how well the plan seemed to be working. Fortunately, he didn't have to try to play this little game of poker with a straight face. It was still tense, and potentially dangerous. Not for his own sake of course, but Reaper was aware of how acutely unstable Soldier: 76 still seemed to be.

 

Honestly, Reaper had expected no less and the last thing he wanted to do right now was send him back over the edge. But bluffing, posturing and pretending to actually have a stake in this fight would have been much more stressful had his face been exposed. The expected body language and feigned bickering was easy.  Reaper wasn't so sure that keeping his expressions fully neutral, would have been.

 

Blade now in hand, Reaper glanced up at Soldier: 76.

 

"That's right. Over here. Go on, quit stalling!"

 

"I'm not stalling, I just. I don't want to make any sudden moves."

 

"Smart man."

 

A moment later, his tactical knife — sheath and thigh strap included, was lightly thrown toward Soldier: 76, landing into the snow nearby. Reaper watched with more patience than he outwardly displayed as Soldier: 76 leaned over and picked it up, before tucking it away as well.

 

"Anything else I should know about?"

 

"No." Reaper said with feigned irritation.

 

"I don't trust you, but we'll leave it for now."

 

Reaper grunted under his breath.

 

_Like I didn't already know that..._

 

Soldier: 76 motioned with his rifle; first towards Reaper, and then at the steps that led to the back door of the house. "Go on."

 

Tilting his head, Reaper studied Soldier: 76 silently for a moment.

 

_Not real big on hospitality are you, pendejo?_

 

Still, it was an invitation. And one he'd gladly take. Though the way everything had played out was hardly on friendly terms, it was exactly the final result Reaper had wanted to happen. He could work on the rest later.

 

"What, inside?" Reaper asked, before showing any outward initiative whatsoever.

 

"Yep. And I'm still watching you..." Soldier: 76 said threateningly. "In you go."

 

"...Got it."

 

Reaper walked towards the house with the same sort of slow deliberation he had shown in Gibraltar, and as he turned to make his way up the small staircase he heard the distinctive sounds of Soldier: 76's footsteps crunching in the snow behind him. After he ascended, Reaper turned the knob and took a few short steps inside before stopping. A moment later he heard Soldier: 76 shut and lock the door behind him.

 

"Take a seat, _Reaper_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have added links to art of this story at the summary at the beginning of the fic. If you have read this far, they are safe to view without spoilers.


	11. Captive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Soldier: 76 feels he's got the advantage, he begins to interrogate Reaper.

Soldier: 76 had worked diligently to keep his attention focused on Reaper, like a warden observing a dangerous inmate. Never dropping his guard thus far had been difficult, due to the intrusive thoughts that crept into his mind throughout their confrontation outside. Now that things were starting to settle a bit, his lucidity was improving along with his sense of security. And he most definitely had the upper hand this time around.

 

Reaper was _his_ captive now.

 

And he had been right after all. The disturbing dreams during the night, the permeating intuitive sense of danger upon rising, and the strange blips on his tactical visor's radar throughout the morning — had all been warning him of this.

 

 _I fucking_ **_knew it_** _._

 

Reaper had chosen the well broken in, greenish living room chair on the far side of the room and had flopped into it before propping his long legs up on the matching ottoman. Now that he was sitting, Soldier: 76 sat in the other remaining chair; which was a recliner in the same shade of olive green. They both had avoided the tan sofa which was a bit further back, in the center of the room and against the wall.

 

After trying to find a reasonably comfortable position with the awkwardness of a newly acquired arsenal wrapped around his waist, Soldier: 76 leaned forward and placed his pulse rifle on the coffee table. A split second later, his hand was on his right hip; fingers deftly wrapping around the grip of his pistol.

 

Drawing the smaller weapon from its holster, he pointed this more manageable firearm at Reaper, his elbow propped against the armrest of the chair.

 

Reaper hadn't done much since sitting, his position largely unchanged. He seemed too still, too inanimate; like some sort of grim, lifeless statue. Soldier: 76 didn't like it very much. It was unnerving, and he still hadn't been able to shake that hyper-vigilant sensation of danger. He was resigning himself to the fact that he might never be rid of it ever again.

 

"So. _Reaper_." Soldier: 76 began, tone cold and accusative. "You got some explaining to do."

 

Reaper nodded, then shifted in his seat. "What would you like to know?"

 

Soldier: 76 braced at the sound of Reaper's voice, that strange eerie quality was much more obvious inside an enclosed room. Trying to stave his own stray thoughts away for the time being, he cleared his throat and motioned at Reaper with his pistol.

 

"Why don't you start with... exactly how the _fuck_ you found me out here." Soldier: 76 sneered.

 

Reaper laughed humorlessly. "When we somehow ran into each other in Gibraltar, after all those years?" He began, shaking his head as he spoke. "I wasn't about to lose you again."

 

"What do you mean by _that_?"

 

"I took... preventative countermeasures that day.” Reaper continued, raising his arms before interlacing his fingers, hands pressed against his chest. “Good thing I did too, since you ran out on me. You disappointed me that day, Morrison. But it was an outcome I was prepared for, all the same."

 

Clenching his teeth, Soldier: 76 stared at Reaper. That hard, aching knot in the core of his chest was returning, as if he'd suddenly swallowed a hot coal.

 

 _I disappointed... you? How fucking_ **_dare you_** _._

 

"So you followed me, huh?" Soldier: 76 croaked, trying to force down the heat of churning indignation building inside of him long enough to stay rational; to get the answers he needed.

 

"...Essentially." Reaper said solemnly, bringing his hands apart and placing his elbows on the armrests of the chair.

 

“Why did you wait so long to show yourself then, asshole? Did you just enjoy following me... stalking me, all this goddamn time?" Soldier: 76 asked shakily, fighting waves of nausea that rolled through him. Beads of cold sweat dotted his brow as he continued to stare at the masked captive he realized he'd only managed to catch through a combination of luck and timing. He tightened his fingers around his pistol grip in an attempt to keep his arm steady.

 

Reaper turned his head, looking at the wall. "Not exactly, Seventy-six." He said flatly, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I wasn't _following_ you. Not actively. I just kept tabs on your movement for a while, watched over you. And eventually I made my move and came out here. But I thought we both needed some… time, before I met up with you again."

 

"Well, no amount of time would've ever been enough in my opinion." Soldier: 76 growled bitterly. "You should've just stayed as far away from me as possible." He said, his tone as filled with vitriol and venom as the words themselves had been.

 

Reaper didn't speak. He simply continued staring at the wall in a mostly still manner, though his fingers curled under, claws tightening against the edges of the armrests of his chair as Soldier: 76 spoke.

 

"So what are your intentions? Gonna finish what you fucking started? Put an end to all of this?" Soldier: 76 asked, accusative and direct. His hand was now shaking despite all of the straining he put into holding his gun as tightly as possible. His palms were sweaty and clammy, and he could damn near hear the blood rushing through his veins; heart pounding furiously in his chest as he awaited the inevitable answer.

 

"No." Reaper said quietly.

 

"What, then?" Soldier: 76 scoffed indignantly. "What's the point in all of this?"

 

"Look." Reaper began, turning his concealed gaze towards Soldier: 76. "I never intended to hurt you in Gibraltar. And I don't intend to hurt you now."

 

Soldier: 76 didn't reply but continued to study Reaper's body language with focused scrutiny. It was much harder of course, trying to ascertain the motives of a man whose face was hidden, but at least for now Soldier: 76 preferred that he couldn't see his face. He briefly considered forcing Reaper to remove his mask, but decided better of it.

 

"I know you don't believe me, and I know you don't trust me… at all."

 

"You got that right."

 

"But think about it Seventy-six. Consider it from a detached perspective – just for a moment. If I truly did have some intention of causing you harm, why would I have gone to all this trouble? I could've hurt you many times in Gibraltar. I had plenty of opportunities. I let you follow me and led you right to where I was staying, for a start. I didn't have to do that, I could've confronted you instead, right then and there. I knew you were tailing me. I even stopped on more than one occasion to make sure you hadn't lost my trail. "

 

Soldier: 76's brow furrowed beneath his visor as he thought, remembering the day in question. It was true. Reaper had stopped more than once, during the chase. In the moment, Soldier: 76 assumed he'd been trying to get his bearings and figure out which direction he needed to take in order to reach wherever it was he'd been heading for.

 

Were those moments of hesitation made solely for his benefit, instead; to allow him time to catch up?

 

It was logical but incredibly aggravating. For several reasons, including the glaring fact that it meant Soldier: 76 had been outmatched from the start. But it did add up, considering that Reaper had been waiting for him to enter the house. He'd obviously figured it out at some point.

 

"Go on." Soldier: 76 grumbled.

 

"Once you came inside, do you remember what happened?" Reaper's tone of voice suddenly had a much softer, gentler quality.

 

And it was still irritating. Every single thing Reaper did had managed to get on Soldier: 76's nerves.

 

"Of course I fucking remember!"

 

"Do you... really?" Reaper prodded, tilting his head slightly.

 

Soldier: 76 groaned loudly, making his displeasure obvious. "Yes!"

 

"You broke down on me, Seventy-six."

 

"I don't want to fucking talk about this!"

 

Reaper chuckled dryly under his breath.

 

"Fine. Then I'll make it quick. My point is, I could've taken you out countless times. When you were following me, when you finally came inside, when you lost control of the situation, _while you were fucking asleep_..." Reaper continued, motioning toward Soldier: 76 with a clawed finger. "But did I try to harm you? No. Not even when you begged me to. I took care of you instead! I even made you breakfast, you ungrateful bastard."

 

Soldier: 76 extended his right arm, hand shaking as he pointed his pistol at Reaper's face. "Shut up!"

 

"And how did you repay me? You left me without so much as saying goodbye." Reaper finished smugly.

 

"I said, shut the fuck up!"

 

"Understood, _Commander Morrison_."

 

Soldier: 76 was quickly losing whatever grasp he had on himself and the situation, and he knew it. Not that he had been all that stable to begin with. Despite his issues, he usually managed to do all right, despite it all. But just like in Gibraltar, all of that went down the fucking drain as soon as Reaper entered the picture.

 

"I'm the one asking the questions. When I ask, you answer. When I tell you to shut up, you fucking shut up." Soldier: 76 said aggressively, attempting to reestablish control. "You understand me?"

 

"Yeah. Got it."

 

Soldier: 76's gaze traveled downward, now fixated on the incredibly dangerous looking gloves Reaper wore.

 

"I was nice enough not to make you take them off outside in the freezing cold, but take those fucking gloves off, right now. Nice and slow, toss them over here."

 

"You can't be serious." Reaper sighed.

 

"Oh, I'm fucking serious."

 

"Seventy-six, you have _all_ of my weapons."

 

"By the looks of it… not all of them. Not yet, but I'm about to."

 

Reaper hesitated.

 

"Quit stalling! If you're so goddamned innocent like you keep claiming to be, then why are you trying to get out of it?" Soldier: 76 said smugly.

 

"Because you. You won't like what's under them."

 

Soldier: 76 stared at Reaper, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

 

"I don't look the same under my mask, if you recall. My hands are no better than the rest of me."

 

"…If it's all the same to you, I'd still prefer you took them off." Soldier: 76 said sarcastically, obviously not buying Reaper's explanation.

 

"Fine." Reaper sighed deeply.

 

Slowly, he began tugging at the fingers of his gloves, first one side and then the other. Once loosened, Reaper pulled one of his gloves off, curling his hand into a fist before tossing the glove towards the coffee table between them. It landed loudly, the sharpened razor-like tips clanking against the surface of the wood.

 

Soldier: 76 watched with suspicion and curiosity. He could see patches of strange discoloration and loss of pigmentation along the skin of Reaper's hand but otherwise, it seemed relatively normal.

 

"Now the other one."

 

A moment later, the second glove landed atop the first. And just as before, Reaper carefully balled his other hand into a fist as soon as he possibly could.

 

But this time, as he had to rid himself of the glove before he could do so, something unusual flashed before Soldier: 76's vision. Something strange and not right, but he hadn't had long enough to figure out what. He now stared intently at Reaper's hands, noting how tightly clenched they were. He was definitely trying to hide something, and it was whatever Soldier: 76 had just caught a glimpse of.

 

He wasn't about to let that pass.

 

"Show me your fingers." Soldier: 76 demanded.

 

"… Do I have to?" Reaper asked, his hesitance reflected in his voice.

 

"Yeah, of course you do."

 

"I figured..." Reaper sighed, defeatedly raising his right fist and flexing his fingers.

 

They simply stared at each other for a few seconds in silence, as Soldier: 76's scrutinizing gaze trailed along Reaper's exposed hand. Holding back a gasp, he recoiled as he looked on, sinking back into his chair in complete revulsion. Those ridiculous metal dagger claws that tipped his gloves were apparently not just for show. What had been concealed beneath them wasn't normal, and didn't even look human. It was if his nails had somehow melted into his flesh, and then mutated further still. The elongated gnarled tips of his fingers were curled and beastly, like the talons of a bird of prey or some sort of lizard. While his hand-wear had been further weaponized and accented, it was now very obvious the gloves Reaper always wore were originally custom made to accommodate his real fingers beneath them.

 

Reaper grunted softly under his breath and nodded slowly at Soldier: 76, as if he'd expected this disgust tinged response.

 

"What… the fuck happened to you?" Soldier: 76 finally asked, breathless.

 

"I've tried to tell you before, Seventy-six. But it's not a good topic."

 

"Well, you got my attention and I'm willing to listen now." Soldier: 76 replied, though he was already struggling to stay focused, and in the present.

 

He already knew where this conversation would be headed, and Reaper was right. It wasn't a good topic. But at least the entirety of the situation itself wasn't a total shock, as it had been in Gibraltar. There was no way Soldier: 76 could honestly prepare himself for what he knew was about to come, but it had to be discussed if they were ever going to get anywhere.

 

And at least he'd already had the chance to mull over the impossibility of Reyes still being alive. Honestly, it had been pretty much all he thought about over the course of the past three months.

 

Soldier: 76 would get through the conversation, this time. He had to. He'd already regretted not getting all of the answers back then, when the possibility had presented itself. He hadn't been receptive back then, but it hadn't been out of spite or stubbornness. Soldier: 76 simply had not possessed the fortitude necessary to survive such a difficult conversation then. When the shock of everything was fresh, old wounds suddenly cut open and bleeding – it had all been too much.

 

He wasn't going to miss out on this chance twice. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

 

"Seventy-six."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"We can take it slow. A bit at a time. If it gets to be too much for you, let me know."

 

Soldier: 76 growled under his breath, that distinctively kind and gentle tone was already close to sending him over the edge. It sounded so genuine, so concerned. It was infuriating and fucking insulting.

 

"Fine. I'll fucking let you know. Now talk!"

 

"After the explosion, I laid there for a long time. How long exactly, I don't know… but too long, far too long – that much is certain." Reaper explained, voice cracking as he spoke. He paused for a moment, crossing his arms and hiding his hands below his biceps.

 

Soldier: 76 grunted but didn't interrupt, though he already felt deep-seated and heavily repressed emotions trying to rise to the surface. The mere suggestion of that day nearly pushed him past his breaking point. He didn't know how much longer he could take this conversation, but he had to at least try to hear Reaper out, and he knew it. No matter what the outcome, he had to at least hear Reaper's story.

 

"They pulled me out. I don't remember this very well, of course. I’m mostly just repeating what was explained to me. The rescue crew must have found my body in the wreckage. I ended up in the morgue. And I guess even though it was a lost cause, Ziegler couldn't just... let it go. Let me go. I wish she had, honestly. And I've wished for that, every single day since then..."

 

Braced and tense, Soldier: 76 stared harshly at Reaper; though with each moment, his vision grew fuzzier and less focused as his mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts and traumatic memories. As usual, he instinctively reacted with cruelty in his own thoughts, a bitter and hateful retort already on the tip of his tongue as Reaper spoke. And yet, for some reason he couldn't speak the words this time. He couldn't force them out, though the intention was there. It was if his speech had become lodged in his vocal cords, against the aching knot now stuck in his throat.

 

"What is it they used to say? Six minutes? Six minutes that a person can be clinically dead and still be brought back? Something like that. Until Ziegler's new methods came along, anyway. How long was it that she used to brag about? Fifteen minutes, half an hour? I don't know how long I was dead, Morrison… I never did get that out of her. Maybe hours, maybe days for all I know. All I can tell you for sure, is that she should have known better than to try to resuscitate me. And it shouldn't have fucking worked! No way in hell should it have ever worked." Reaper continued, the volume of his voice steadily increasing. The longer he explained, the more unsteady and wavering speech became beneath the intensity of his emotions.

 

The crimson tinted visuals below Soldier: 76's visor screen became filled with static lines of interference, and his hearing was inundated with crackling bursts of white noise as his grasp on reality was challenged, the words that Reaper spoke hitting so close to his core that it was all he could do just to hold on.

 

He wanted to say, do something. Anything. But conflicting emotions and tangled thoughts had temporarily trapped him in a state of complete inaction. His heart suddenly ached with the many years and countless layers of unresolved grief he'd bottled up for so long.

 

Mourning the deaths of both Gabriel and Jack.

 

But for every second something within him tried to sympathize with Reaper, something else rose tenfold inside of him. The embers of resentment, rage and wrath – the smoldering pain of being forced to endure complete and utter betrayal from the person he'd trusted the most in that past life.

 

He struggled with himself; wanting to empty his pistol's clip into Reaper's chest, wanting to order Reyes to shut the hell up and wanting to run to Gabriel and hold him – and all of these conflicting notions were currently bearing equal weight in his heart and mind.

 

Jaw locked, teeth clenched and every muscle in his body tense and rigid, Soldier: 76 simply sat there, unable to do anything else. Even though he knew it was only going to get worse if he continued to allow the man to speak. It was obvious that Reaper's hold on himself was fading and fragile, just as his own was.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
